Chapter 179 — Bound (Trigger Warning: Assault)
Ella
"It's all right, Ella," the first priest said, approaching slowly, like one might a skittish horse—with measured movements and open hands to show he held no weapon. "We only want to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" I asked shakily, my back pressed against the locked door.
"You have very powerful magic inside you," he explained, his tone far too gentle to be trustworthy, "and if it's allowed to come out, you'll be exposed. We can't let that happen."
It felt like a trick, a deliberate attempt to feign kindness while masking malice.
"I don't have any magic," I insisted, wishing I did. Perhaps with magic, I could stop what was happening here, protect the others without harming myself. Lost in this thought, I almost missed his next words. "Exposed to what?"
"You do; it just hasn't shown itself yet," the second priest sighed, 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 greater distances? Run faster, jump higher, withstand greater injuries with less pain?"
His hawkish gaze burned into me. "Do they not follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?"
My head spun, dizzying with the possibilities. He was right, but that couldn't be because of some special power. It was just… the way things were, wasn't it?
"And exposed to a world you cannot yet join," the first priest added. "It must happen when the time is right—but that time is a very long way off."
"I don't understand," I squeaked, a deep dread settling in my stomach.
"We know, Ella," the second priest said. "And I'm sorry this must happen. It won't be pleasant, but it's necessary for the future of our people."
I shook my head, fighting back tears. Their words triggered every alarm bell in my young mind. I knew what men did to little girls under the guise of necessity, the pretense of help or protection. I knew exactly how unpleasant things could get.
My blood ran cold, my pulse racing, triggering a strange new energy deep in my bones. It pulsed like a bolt of electricity, a wild, feral thing writhing beneath my skin, begging to be free.
"No, go away!" I hissed, my body shuddering.
The men exchanged grim looks.
"Her timing was perfect. Another week, and we'd be too late," one said.
"I'm sorry, child," the first priest said gravely, closing the distance. "We wouldn't do this if there were another way."
Raw terror, unlike anything I'd ever known, overwhelmed me. My instincts screamed at me to run, to escape at any cost. Whatever these men intended would be far worse than anything the doctor or matron had ever inflicted on me.
But there was nowhere to run. A bolted door was behind me, and two attackers far larger and stronger than I was were bearing down on me. I tried to scream, but the second priest clamped his hand over my mouth.
I bit his palm, but he didn't flinch. He simply wrenched me from the door, throwing me into the room. The first man grabbed my legs, lifting me off the ground. I thrashed, my screams muffled as the priest continued to smother me. His blood seeped into my mouth, the metallic tang burning my already queasy stomach. I gagged, fighting for air, struggling to focus on escape. I was powerless in their grip, completely unaffected by my attacks; I might as well have been a feather in the wind.
A distant keening pierced the air, sounding far away—cries deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain far more complex than my own fear.
"Leon," a deep, concerned voice joined the sounds. "It's too much."
"Just a little more," a second voice replied from above. "We're so close."
I had no idea where the sounds came from, and the priests seemed oblivious. They continued their task with single-minded focus, and I was nothing more than a pawn in their game—tiny and helpless.
I was thrown to the floor and pinned down. The first priest restrained my wrists while the other sat on my legs, pulling out a tool bag. He produced a shimmering silk cloth, its pearlescent sheen glowing in the darkness. It looked soft, but as they wrapped it around me, it tightened with the force of steel. They enclosed me in the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering cocoon. My arms and legs were locked; I was completely immobile. They even wrapped my head, as if to mummify me alive. Just before the silk covered my mouth, the priest finally removed his hand. A half-second scream escaped before the moonlight-like fabric sealed my lips in a silent scream. I could breathe, though I didn't understand how.
It was a nightmare come to life—my mind was awake, but I was trapped, unable to move or speak. I could only lie there, my brain screaming at my body to move, but nothing happened. This wasn't a dream; this was real, and it was only the beginning.
I heard the priests rummaging outside my silken prison: the clink of glass, the jostling of beads, a bottle uncorking. Despite the fabric's strength, I could still feel and smell. A pungent, herbaceous fragrance filled my nose a moment before drops of moisture seeped through the silk onto my skin. Light objects—stones or crystals—were placed on my head, chest, arms, and legs in deliberate patterns.
I desperately fought the cocoon, the foreign electricity in my veins warning me I wouldn't be able to fight much longer. I knew I was running out of time, but I refused to give up hope.
The priests began to chant in a language I didn't recognize. Their words swirled, carrying arcane power older than the world. Darkness became blinding light, searing my vision; I couldn't close my eyes. The light was so intense it felt like stabbing pain in my head. Then I realized the light was the least of my worries. Fire traveled along the inside of the fabric—but the silk didn't burn, only I did. It blazed so hot that any tears would evaporate instantly. My skin blistered, burst, and the flames charred my flesh and muscles.
I was dying. I was sure of it. I was dying, and I wouldn't escape. Cora and the other children would be alone and defenseless.
That wild energy surged again, and the priests lost their rhythm, their chant stuttering before regaining its droning force. I tried to send another surge, but something tore inside me, more painful than the flames.
"Leon, I'm serious now, bring her out!" a man's angry voice boomed. The woman was still screaming, her voice hoarse. "We know what they did; it's time to stop. She can't take any more."
"I'll get the antidote," the second voice agreed.
I was breaking, unraveling. With a violent wrench, my soul was ripped in two. The pain disappeared, the light dimmed, but my chest felt hollow. No more power pulsed through my veins, and only now that it was gone could I recognize it had been there. I'd lost something sacred and integral to my being, though I didn't know what. I simply knew I was no longer whole.
The priests spoke softly as they unwrapped me. "She was stronger than I expected… remarkable, really."
My face was uncovered. Though I expected to be burnt to a crisp, I felt cold air against my tear-stained skin, though I no longer had the will to cry. I stared blankly at the ceiling until a withered face came into my line of sight.
"It's all over now," the priest assured me, sounding regretful. "We'll take away the memory, too. You won't have to remember this, little one."
His face blurred as a needle pricked my arm, and I returned to the present.