"It's all right, Ella," the first priest said, approaching slowly, like one might a skittish horse, his hands open 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, and if it's allowed to surface, you'll be exposed. We can't let that happen," he explained, his tone far too gentle to be trustworthy. It felt like he was trying to trick me, to convince me of his kindness while harboring malice.

"I don't have any magic," I insisted, wishing I did. Maybe if I were magical, I could stop what was happening here—protect the others without harming myself. I was so preoccupied with this thought that I almost missed his next statement. "Exposed to what?"

"You do; it just hasn't manifested 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? That you can run faster, jump higher, and suffer greater injuries with less pain?" His hawk-like gaze burned into me. "Don't they follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?"

My head spun, dizzying me with the possibilities. He was right, but that couldn't be because I had 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 long way off."

"I don't understand," I squeaked, 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 helping or protecting. And I knew exactly how unpleasant things could get. My blood ran cold, my pulse raced, 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 glances. "Her timing was perfect—another week and we'd be too late."

"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 experienced, consumed me. My instincts screamed at me to run, to escape at any cost. They told me whatever they intended would be far worse than anything the doctor or matron had ever inflicted on me. But there was nowhere to run. I had a bolted door at my back and two attackers far larger and stronger than me 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, pulling me further into the room.

The first man grabbed my legs, lifting me off the ground. I thrashed violently, my screams muffled as the priest continued to smother me. His blood seeped into my mouth, the metallic tang adding to the nausea churning in my stomach. I gagged, fighting for air, struggling to focus on escape. I was powerless in their grip, seemingly unaffected by my attacks; I might as well have been a feather in the wind.

A distant keening pierced the air. The cries were deeper than mine, thick with grief and pain far more complex than my own terror.

"Leon," a deep, concerned voice joined the sounds. "It's too much."

"Just a little more," a second voice replied, floating above me. "We're so close."

I had no idea where the sounds originated, and the priests didn't seem to hear them. 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. The first priest restrained my wrists while the other sat on my legs, pulling out his tool bag.

He produced a shimmering silk cloth, its pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight. 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 around me like a glittering cocoon. My arms and legs were locked; I was completely immobile. Soon, they were wrapping 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 silk sealed my lips, trapping my face in a silent scream. I could breathe, though I didn't understand how.

It was one of my nightmares 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 muscles to move, but nothing happened. This wasn't a dream; this was real, and it was only the beginning.

I could hear 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. My nose filled with a pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seeped through the silk onto my skin.

Light objects were placed on my body—stones or crystals arranged in deliberate patterns on my head, chest, arms, and legs. I was desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that 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 an unfamiliar language. Their words swirled around the room, carrying arcane power older than the world itself. Darkness turned to blinding light, searing my vision. The pain stabbed my head; I was sure I'd never see again.

Soon, 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. I felt my skin blistering, bursting as the flames charred my flesh and muscles. I was dying.

I was sure of it. I was dying, and I wouldn't escape. There would be no one left to protect Cora and the other children; they'd 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!" The man's voice was angry, furious. The woman's screams were 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. The power in my veins was gone, and only now, in its absence, did 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'd 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 one of the withered faces came into my view. "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.