Chapter 180
Accidental Surrogate for Alpha
Ella
âItâs all right, Ellaâ 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. âWe only want to protect you.â
âProtect me from what?â I question shakily, my back flush against the locked door.
âYou have a very powerful magic inside you, and if itâs allowed to come out youâll be exposed. We canât
let that happen.â He explains, using a tone much too gentle to be trustworthy. Itâs as though heâs trying
to trick me, to convince me heâs kind when he truly intends malice.
âI donât have any magic.â I insist, wishing that I did.
Maybe if I was magic I might be able to put a stop to the things happening here â to protect the others
without bringing harm to myself. I was so preoccupied with this statement thatI almost missed the
second piece of information. âExposed to what?â
âYou do, it just hasnât shown itself yet.â The second priest sighs, keeping his distance but watching me
with sharp eyes. âAt 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?â He inquires, his hawkish
gaze searing into me, âdo they not follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?â
My head spins, making me dizzy with the possibilities. He guesses correctly, but that canât be because I
have some sort of special power. Itâs just the way things are. isnât it?
âAnd exposed to a world you cannot yet join.â The first man adds. âIt must happen when the time is
right- but that time is a very long way off.â
I donât understand.âI squeak, a sense of pure dread settling in the pit of my stomach
âWe know, Ellaâ The second man proclaims, âAnd Iâm sorry that this must happen, it will not be
pleasant, but it is necessary for the future of our peopleâ¦
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 bl00d 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 â begging to be free. âNo, go away!â I hiss, my body
shuddering with these new sensations.
The men look at each other with grim determination. âHer timing was sp0t on â another week and weâd
be too late.â
âIm sorry, child.â The first priest professes gravely, closing the distance between us. âWe would not do
this if there was another way.â
Raw terror, unlike anything Iâve ever experienced before, takes over my senses. My instincts are
screaming at me to run, to get away at any cost.
They tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory
matron have ever inflicted on me. But there isnât anywhere to run. Iâve got a bolted door at my back and
two attackers far larger 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 sound can escape. I sink my teeth into his palm, but
he doesnât even flinch. He simpÅy wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further into the
room.
The first man grabs my legs, and Iâm lifted off the ground. I thrash violently against their hold, my
screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to smother me. His bl00d seeps into my mouth,
the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour stomach. My gorge rises, and Iâm gagging,
fighting for air and struggling to focus on my escape. I donât know what to do or how to fight them â Iâm
powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected by my attacks. I might as well be
a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend to contain me.
A distant keening pierces the air, sounding very far away. The cries are deeper than my own, thick with
grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my own panicked screams.
âLeon,â A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible sounds. âItâs too much.â
âJust a litle more.â A second voice, floating above me, replies. âWeâre so close.â
I have no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests donât seem to hear them at all.
They continue with their task with single- minded focus, and iâm nothing more than a pawn in their
game â tiny and helpless to stop them.
Iâm thrust onto the floor and pinned down. The first priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my
kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to his side.
He extracts a shimmering silk cloth, itâs pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the
darkness. It looks soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me
with the unyielding force of steel. They enclose me in the fabric, winding it round and round like a
glittering cocoon.
Once my arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut, Im completely immobile. I canât
move a muscle in the fabricâs punishing grip, and soon theyâre wrapping my head, as if they intend to
mummify me alive. Just before the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my
mouth. A half second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping l!ps, locking
my face into the contours of a silent scream. Iâm able to breathe, though I donât understand how.
Itâs one of my nightmares come to life â my mind is awake but Iâm trapped in my own body, unable to
move or speak. I can only lie there motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles
to move, to do something â anything! But nothing happens because this isnât a dream from which I can
wake, this is real, and itâs only the beginning.
I can 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? A bottle unc0rking? FoI all the fabricâs strength, it
does not stop me from feeling or smelling. My nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance
a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and onto my skin.
Light objects are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head, c.hest,
arms and legs. Iâm still desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning
me that I wonât be able to fight much longer. Somehow, I know Iâm running out of time, but I refuse to
give up hope for escape.
The priests begin to chant then, speaking a language I do not recognize. There words swirl around the
small room, carrying arcane power older than the world itself. There was only darkness a moment ago,
but now blinding light explodes in my vision, blinding me â but I canât close my eyes against it. The light
is so searing that pain stabs in my head, and Iâm sure Iâll never see again.
Soon I realize that the light is the least of my worries. Fire is traveling along the inside of the fabric â
but the silk does not burn, only I do. It blazes so hot that Iâm sure any tears lingering on my cheeks will
evaporate on the sp0t, I can feel my skin blistering, bursting until the flames can move on to charring
my flesh and muscles. Iâm dyingâ¦
Iâm sure of it. Iâm dying and Iâm not going to escape. There Wonât be anyone left to protect Cora and the
other children, theyâll be alone and defenseless.
That same wild energy surges forward, and the priests lose their rhythm momentarily, their chant
stuttering before regaining itâs droning force. I try to send another surge, but something is tearing inside
of me, more painful even than the flames.
âLeon, Iâm serious now, bring her out.â The man is angry now, furious. And the woman is still
screamning, he Voice hoarse with the effort. âWe know what they did, itâs time to stop. She canât take
any more.â
âIl get the antidote.â The second voice agrees.
Iâm breaking, unraveling, and with a violent wrench, my soul is ripped in two. The pain disappears, the
light goes dim, but my c.hest feels hollow. There is no more power pulsing through my veins, and only
now that itâs gone can I recognize that it was there in the first place. Iâve lost something sacred and
integral to my being, though I donât know what. I simply know I am no longer whole.
The priests speak softly as they unwrap me, âShe was stronger than I expected⦠remarkable really.â
My face is uncovered, and though I was certain Iâd been burnt to a crisp, I feel cold air against my
tearstained skin, though I no longer have the will to cry. I stare blankly at the ceiling above me, until one
of the withered faces moves into my line of sight. âItâs all over now.â The priest assures me, sounding
regretful, âWeâll take away the memory too. You wonât have to remember this, little oneâ
His face blurs as a needle pinches my arm, and I return to the present.