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 shuddering with these

men look at each other

— another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

not do this if

ever

me to run, to get away

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

there isn’t anywhere to

am bearing down

into his palm, but

simply wrenches me away from the door,

grabs my legs, and I’m

muffled and garbled as

my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my

I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling

to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected

be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very

deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my own

tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating

"We're so close."

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

nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny

thrust onto the floor

other sits on my kicking

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

begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding force of

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

sides and my

can’t move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re

falls over my mouth, the priest

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

breathe, though I

my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but

screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing

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 silk and

over my body, stones or crystals placed in

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

I know I’m running out of time, but

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language

carrying arcane power older