I was always fascinated by the faerie mounds. I didn’t believe in any of the ancient warnings.

The fae have been visiting me since I was a child. They’d come at night in a succession of bumps and bangs. When I woke in the morning I’d find something of mine gone. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of a little dew-bright face or a hand the colour of apple leaves.

No one else sees them. Their mounds are silent by day, as if they were simply the hills my mother says they are. People have explored the dwellings inside and never seen any faeries.

They continued to visit me into my late teens. I had exams to sit, a career to plan, and a boyfriend to deal with. Life was certainly not magical.

One day I went to the mounds at night. I entered the ruins and...

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