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.

I hiss, my body shuddering with these

each other

spot on — another

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely,

would not do this if there

ever experienced before, takes over

are screaming at me to run, to

that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor

isn’t

larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth

sink my teeth into his palm, but he

away from the door,

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off the

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

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour

fighting for

I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem

swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend to

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very

grief and pain more complex than

with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear

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

the floor and

sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to his

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight,

begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around

winding it round

arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut,

soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to mummify me

the priest finally removes his hand from my

of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking

breathe, though I

awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move

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

prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the

a moment before drops of moisture seep through

body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head, chest, arms

in my veins warning

I’m running out of time, but

to chant then, speaking

the small room, carrying arcane power older