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.

hiss, my body

look at each other with

spot on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

this if there was

terror, unlike anything I’ve ever

are screaming at me to run, to

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

there isn’t anywhere to

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

my teeth into his

from the door, propelling me further into

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

screams muffled and

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

and I’m gagging, fighting for air and

don’t know what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the

the air,

grief and pain more complex than the sheer

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them at

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

thrust onto the

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

it’s pearlescent sheen

looks soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body,

in the fabric, winding it round and round like

sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

punishing grip, and soon they’re

my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my

before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a silent

breathe, though I

my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m

only lie there motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But

hear the priests rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking?

some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the

or crystals placed in deliberate

in my veins warning

I’m running out of time, but I refuse to

to chant then, speaking a language

carrying arcane power older than