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

each other with

another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely,

do this if there was

I’ve ever experienced before, takes over

to run, to get away

tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than

isn’t

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

into his palm, but he

simply wrenches me away from the door,

first man grabs my legs, and I’m

violently against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as

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

gagging, fighting for air and

how to fight them — I’m

swaying in the

keening pierces the air, sounding very

and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my own

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

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

more than a pawn in their game — tiny

the floor and

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

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

it around my body, it tightens around me with the

fabric, winding it round and

my arms are locked against my sides and my

can’t move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally

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

breathe, though I don’t understand

mind is awake but I’m

motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real, and it’s only

the priests rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The

pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and onto my

are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed

desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't be able to fight

but I refuse to give up hope

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language I

room, carrying arcane power