Accidental Surrogate

#Chapter 179 — Bound Trigger warning — Assault (non-sexual)

Ella

"It’s all right, Ella."

The first priest says, approaching me as one might a skittish horse — with slow, measured movements and hands exposed to show he holds no weapon.

"We only want to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I question shakily, my back flush against the locked door.

"You have a very powerful magic inside you, and if it's allowed to come out you’ll be exposed.We can’t let that happen." He explains, using a tone much too gentle to be trustworthy.

It’s as though he’s trying to trick me, to convince me he’s kind when he truly intends malice.

"I don’t have any magic." I insist, wishing that I did.

Maybe if I was magic I might be able to put a stop to the things happening here — to protect the others without bringing harm to myself.I was so preoccupied with this statement that I almost missed the second piece of information.

"Exposed to what?"

"You do, it just hasn't shown itself yet."

The second priest sighs, keeping his distance but watching me with sharp eyes.

"At least not in ways you understand.Tell me, have you never noticed how much stronger you are than your peers? That you can hear and smell things from much greater distances? That you can run faster, jump higher, suffer greater injuries with less pain?"

He inquires, his hawkish gaze searing into me, "do they not follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?"

My head spins, making me dizzy with the possibilities.He guesses correctly, but that can’t be because I have some sort of special power.It's just the way things are...isn’t it? "And exposed to a world you cannot yet join."

The first man adds.

"It must happen when the time is right - but that time is a very long way off."

"I don’t understand."

I squeak, a sense of pure dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

"We know, Ella."

The second man proclaims, "And I’m sorry that this must happen, it will not be pleasant, but it is necessary for the future of our people."I shake my head, fighting back tears.

Their words are triggering every alarm bell in my young mind.I know what men do to little girls under the guise of necessity, the pretense of helping or protecting.

And I know exactly how unpleasant things can get.

My blood runs cold, and my pulse races, triggering a strange new energy deep in my bones.

It pulses through me like a bolt of electricity, a wild thing writhes just beneath my skin, feral and rabid — begging to be free.

away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with

men look at each other with

timing was spot on — another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely,

do this if there was another

ever

to run, to get

be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron

there isn’t anywhere to

two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest

teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t

wrenches me away from the

my legs, and I’m

against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to smother

the metallic tang fanning the flames

rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to focus on

them — I’m powerless in

swaying in the

pierces the

and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my own

voice, tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating

"We're so close."

no idea where these sounds are coming from, and

than a pawn in their game — tiny and helpless

the

first priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with

enclose me in the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering

are locked against my sides and my legs

and soon they’re wrapping my head,

over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from

my gaping lips, locking my face into the

breathe, though I don’t understand

nightmares come to life - my mind is awake

to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I

and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass?

nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and

over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I

time, but

speaking a language I do

small room, carrying arcane power older than the world