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.

my body

men look at each other with grim

on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing the

this if there was another

terror, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over

screaming at me to run, to get away at

far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted on

there isn’t

than I am bearing down on me.I try

teeth into his palm, but

me away from the door, propelling me further into

man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

against their hold, my screams muffled

tang fanning the flames in

for air and struggling

to fight them — I’m powerless in

the wind

the air,

with grief and pain

voice, tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

idea where these sounds are coming from, and

single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game —

the floor and pinned

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

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the

wrapping it around my body, it tightens

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

are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head,

falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my

moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into

to breathe, though

is awake but I’m trapped in my own body,

- anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a

outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A

is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep

my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't

know I’m running out of time, but I

chant then, speaking a language

swirl around the small room, carrying arcane power older than the