Philippa Fisher and the Fairy's Promise by Liz Kessler Page B

“We’re listening.”
    “First — neither of you is in any trouble,” Alya began in a soft voice. It felt soothing and warm — a bit like the hot chocolate, which we’d decided to drink after all. “Quite the contrary,” she went on. “You are a very special pair. Unique, in fact.”
    She took a sip of her drink. “Let’s go back a few thousand years. A long, long time ago, humans and fairies were very great friends. They had friendships like you would not imagine.” Alya paused and smiled at us both. “Friendships that most could not imagine, anyway,” she said. “You two can probably imagine their friendships perfectly. Our tests have proved this.”
    “Your tests?” Daisy burst out. “You’ve been playing games with us?”
    “Believe me, this is anything but a game,” Alya said seriously. “The tests we carried out were to ensure that we were right about you. That you had the kind of friendship that is needed.”
    “Needed for what?” I asked.
    “For an assignment that could save all of us,” Alya said gravely. “Listen. I’ll explain.”
    I shut my mouth tight and listened to what she had to say.
    “Many, many years ago, humans and fairies worked together on all sorts of things. Among these were the portals.” She turned to me. “In your world, they are known today as stone circles, ancient monuments whose history is unknown. The old days are so long forgotten now that many theories abound about the stone circles — their origin, their purpose. It is only the fairies who remember their true use. Indeed, today it is only fairies who can use them at all.” Alya glanced at me. “It is only fairies who can intentionally use them,” she corrected herself. “If a human gets caught up in some of the ancient magic, there is nothing we can do to prevent it from working. But this very rarely happens. So rarely, in fact, that most of us at ATC had forgotten it was even possible.”
    “But not you?” I said.
    Alya shook her head. “Even we at High Command paid very little attention to the portals anymore — until recently.”
    “The stone circles were built as portals to allow fairies and humans to travel between each other’s worlds,” Chara went on. “But they were also a testament to the friendships between these fairies and humans. Because of this, only those with the greatest bonds of friendship were able to take part in their construction, or their continued upkeep. The friendship sealed the stones in place more solidly than any cement or mortar. The friendship was what really made the circles magical. So, the human and fairy relationships and the magic contained in the circles were inseparable. You understand?”
    We nodded hurriedly, anxious for her to continue with the story.
    “Unfortunately, things began to change quite soon after the formation of these circles. Tiny hairline cracks began to emerge in the alliances between fairies and humans. As more and more humans stopped believing in fairies, the cracks became chasms, which grew bigger and bigger, and eventually led to a complete parting of the ways. Within only a few hundred years, the friendships that had once existed between humans and fairies had vanished completely.”
    Daisy coughed pointedly. The fairy looked at her. “ Almost completely,” she said with a smile.
    “So what happened to the portals?” I asked.
    “The portals didn’t go anywhere,” Chara went on. “Nor did their use change. They were still gateways between the two worlds. The only difference was that humans no longer knew — or cared — how to use them. To humans, fairies were the stuff of children’s stories. They no longer believed, and with this disbelief came the denial of our existence, so we became invisible.”
    “Invisible to humans?” I asked.
    Chara nodded. “To most humans. Of course, over the years there have still been those who have believed — usually children — and they have had a sighting or two. But beyond that, it’s