“But Pinocchio was only half-alive to begin with.” Ilaria examined the ruby on her wand. The resentment and anger she’d nursed inside her for forty years was fading, and with it, her power. She needed to hurry. She didn’t want to be a Heartless a moment longer than she had to, but there was something she needed to do before she renounced her dark enchantments. “With the last of my magic, I pledge to help Pinocchio become a real boy.” She extended her hand to Chiara. “You remember what happened when our magics came together and struck your dove?” As if on cue, Chiara’s white dove flew past them and landed on Ilaria’s arm. “She came to life,” Chia murmured. “Thanks to the two of us.” “It takes two to make miracles happen,” said Ily. “Will you do the honors?” Taking in a deep breath, Chiara nodded, and together, hand in hand, the sisters approached the lifeless Pinocchio. Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish, and someday you will be a real boy. She touched her wand to Pinocchio’s head. “Awake, Pinocchio. Awake.” Magic brimmed across the young boy’s still body, bringing him life. His cheeks turned rosy, and his wooden nose became one made of flesh, the nails in his knees and elbows turning into joints and bone and muscle. Gone were his donkey ears and tail. “Papa!” he spoke. “Papa, I’m alive!” Geppetto rose from the sand, unable to believe his ears. But when he saw his dearest Pinocchio a real boy, his tears of sorrow turned to joy. He scooped his boy into his arms. “My son,” he whispered. “You’ve come home.” Chiara watched them, her heart full of relief and gladness. This was what made her love being a fairy—the tender moments of joy, the proof that hope was never in vain. While the father and son rejoiced, the Blue Fairy guided her sister away from the coast. Two hearts had just been reunited, but there were two more that she was waiting on.
Chiara held out Ily’s old music box. “Will you take your heart?” she asked quietly. “If I do, will I have to forget you, like everyone else?” Chiara swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ll have to ask.” Ilaria slid the music box off Chiara’s palm onto hers. “Even if they say yes, I want my heart back. Even if I’m only your sister, your best friend, your Ily for a minute or an hour, it’ll be worth it.” Tears rimmed Chiara’s eyes, and she linked her arm with her sister’s as Ily opened the music box. The Nightingale Aria hummed to life, and Ilaria let out a shaky breath. “I’m going home,” she whispered to Chiara. “Like the nightingale, I’ve finally found home again.” She sang along, softly, as she held the box to her chest. With each note, a beam of light radiated from the music box, growing brighter and brighter until it enveloped Ilaria completely. The light folded into her chest, and her heart was her own once more. Warmth returned to her eyes, and she aged forty years, her dark brown hair graying into a peppery silver. But her green eyes still danced with youthful mischief. “I thought I’d be more upset at seeing myself old,” Ilaria said, staring at her hands and patting her cheeks. She cleared her throat at the sound of her voice, a good half an octave lower than it’d been only minutes ago. It would take some getting used to. “But you know, I don’t look bad.” She glanced at her reflection in the sea and tapped at the wrinkles around her eyes. “Almost as pretty as Mother, I’d say.” Chiara laughed and held out her arms to hug her sister. But after a long beat, Ilaria withdrew. “I don’t deserve to live again.” The former Scarlet Fairy stared at her hands. “After everything I’ve done…” Chiara wrapped a protective arm around her sister. “You’ve done terrible things, but many of them can still be undone. That’s where you’ll begin.” Bells interrupted Ilaria’s chance to reply, and the two sisters looked up. A kaleidoscope of lights descended upon them: the fairies of the Wishing
Star. Released from the Heartless’s obstructive spell, they were coming to heed the Blue Fairy’s call.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE It was the first time Chiara had seen her fellow fairies assembled together outside the Wishing Star. They landed one by one on the beach, each a bright and vibrant pop of color against the pale sand and gray sky. Not one was smiling. Chiara’s heart sank, but for Ily’s sake, she kept her spirits up and led her sister to greet the fairies. Mirabella was already waiting, but her stern gaze was on Chiara, not the former Scarlet Fairy. She spoke: “It has come to my attention, Chiara, that you were once friends with Mr. Geppetto of Pariva, and that you granted his wish to bring to life his wooden puppet, Pinocchio.” Chiara bowed her head. “Yes, ma’am.” “You promised Pinocchio that you would turn him into a real boy if he proved himself to be brave, truthful, and unselfish.” “I did.” “Such promises are not to be made without express permission and consideration from your fairy elders and the council.” “I know,” pled Chiara. “But Pinocchio…if only you’d seen the happiness on his face. And on Geppetto’s face. It was not a wish made in selfishness.” “Manipulating the gift of life goes against our ways,” Mirabella said. “Instead of adhering to the rules you’ve been taught, you entered a bargain with one of the Heartless, and in the hopes of redeeming the Scarlet Fairy’s heart, you gambled your own—on Pinocchio’s life. This is most
disappointing, Chiara, and not what I would have expected from a fairy of your caliber and reputation.” Ily stiffened at her side. “I didn’t give her a choice,” she said. “You can’t blame her.” “I haven’t finished,” Mirabella said, frowning at the former Scarlet Fairy. She settled her austere gaze on Chiara, then sighed. “You’ve made some questionable decisions, Blue Fairy, and yet…at the end, an old man who has spent a lifetime bringing joy to those around him has at last found his own joy, a puppet has become a real boy, and a Heartless has found her heart again.” Chiara dared to look up. Now Mirabella was smiling. She lowered her wand. “I think some of us have been on the Wishing Star so long that we forget that the rules we set in place long ago may need reviewing. In our efforts to protect ourselves and those we love and guard from the Heartless, we forget that not every heart is only good or only bad.” The other fairies murmured their agreement. “We forget that the sacrifices we require and make in good faith aren’t always what’s best for everyone, and we forget to cherish, most of all, the joys and happiness that come with compassion, selflessness, and bravery.” Mirabella drew herself tall. “By the vote of the fairies of the Wishing Star, you will remain a fairy, so long as you wish. But to admonish you for the rules that you have broken, you will be suspended from the Wishing Star for a period of one year—once our business with Pleasure Island and Monstro is finished. During that time, you will remain in Pariva with your family. You will be reinstated once the year is over.” That was hardly a punishment, and Chiara’s heart rose. “Mirabella…” she breathed. “Thank you.” “I’m not finished.” Mirabella’s tone had softened, and Agata appeared at her side. “It has never sat right with me that we must make our loved ones forget us,” said Agata quietly. “As Mirabella says, perhaps that sacrifice is not what’s best for everyone, and it is time we revisited that rule, and reevaluated whether it does more harm than good.”
“Fairies need time with their loved ones, like everyone else,” chimed in Peri. “I think those connections to our friends and family actually make our magic stronger.” “I would agree,” exclaimed the Rose Fairy. “Me too!” the Yellow Fairy said. “It seems like there’s enough desire for us to take a vote when we’re back on the Wishing Star,” mused Mirabella. “A vote’s perfunctory,” Agata murmured to Chiara. “I have a feeling we’ll have many forgetting spells to undo, shortly. It’s about time, too.” “We’ll take a vote,” Mirabella repeated. “But first, Monstro awaits.” One by one, the fairies waved their wands and became beams of flying starlight. Chiara was last to go. She took Ilaria’s hand. “Come with us,” she said. “Are you sure I’m allowed to?” “We’ll need all the help we can get,” Chiara assured her. Side by side, the two sisters flew together—with Chiara holding on to Ily—after the other fairies, until they came upon Monstro resting in the middle of the Lyre Sea. Joining their powers together, the fairies of the Wishing Star pointed their wands at Monstro. “Sleep, Monstro. Sleep, and do not let your wickedness trouble the shores and seas of Esperia any longer.” In an effort to fight off the fairies’ spell, the giant whale thrashed and started to dive back into the sea, but the Heartless magic that had once given him unimaginable power had weakened, and without Larissa and Amorale’s help, he could no longer resist the good fairies’ magic. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, and he began to sink to the bottom of the sea, where he would remain for a long, long time. The fairies let out jubilant cheers, and Agata dusted her hands. As always, she was ready for the next item of business. “Next, we visit Pleasure Island,” she said. “There are hundreds of boys who want to go home. Their mothers have been missing them.” “May I come, too?” Ilaria asked in a small voice. The ruby on her wand was starting to lose its luster, and soon, once she let go of all her resentment, bitterness, and anger, she would lose her power. “My magic as
a Heartless contributed to building the island. Let it help dismantle the place, and reverse the curse upon all those poor boys.” “And what will you do after you help us, Ilaria Belmagio?” asked Agata. Her words did not betray any reproach, but they also carried no sign of forgiveness. “You are a Heartless no longer.” Ilaria swallowed and stared down at her reflection in her wand’s ruby. “I’m an old woman now, and with the years I have left, I’d like to atone for the mistakes I’ve made.” She held out her wand. “Imprison me, please. The way you did Monstro. I would welcome the sentence.” “It is not our place to punish the deeds you regret,” said Mirabella kindly. “That is for your own conscience to bear.” “Then what must I do?” Ilaria said. “What do you want to do?” asked Chiara. Ilaria drew a ragged breath, and her eyes misted. “I’d like a second chance with my family,” she said quietly, meeting Chiara’s gaze. “I’d like to ask their forgiveness for my selfishness. I know I don’t deserve it, but that’s where I’d like to start.” It was all Chiara could do not to hug her sister right there and then, but Ily wasn’t finished. “Music once brought me great joy,” the former Scarlet Fairy went on. “I’d like to start a school for children, maybe even a choir in town.” She paused. “The boys of Pleasure Island contented themselves by brawling with one another and destroying everything in sight. I’d like to teach them—as well as anyone who will listen—to find happiness through song and harmony.” “You always did love to sing,” said Chiara, wrapping her arm around her sister. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.” “As do I,” said Agata. “And I,” Mirabella chimed in. One by one, the fairies of the Wishing Star agreed, and with the fairies’ blessing, Ilaria accompanied them to what remained of Pleasure Island. It took one long week for the fairies to track down every boy who had been turned into a donkey, and Mirabella and Agata personally sought out the Coachman, Honest John, Gideon, Stromboli, and other servants of the Heartless and ensured that the villains were taught just lessons for their evil
behavior. Stromboli, for instance, was plagued with nightmares that his puppets came to life and attacked him, and Honest John and Gideon dreamt that they drowned in piles of golden coins. But for the Coachman, who was so evil that no lesson would redeem him, Ilaria used the last of her Heartless magic and turned him into a donkey. In the pastures of Pariva, he spent the rest of his days gnawing on hay and grass and braying unpleasantly whenever young boys laughed at his smell. As for the Heartless—without Amorale and Larissa to lead them, their strength as a group waned, and many of them instinctively fell into a deep slumber, as Monstro had. Their absence wouldn’t last forever of course, but it would give the Wishing Fairies time to reevaluate the rigidity of their old rules and ways. In the meantime, the Wishing Fairies found the bottle that contained Amorale and Larissa and brought it onto the Wishing Star. There, they dropped the bottle into the bottom of the deepest well, with a sign for all there were Heartless within, and they were not to be disturbed. When it was all done, Ily and Chia received the fairies’ blessing to return to Pariva. It was unanimously voted that the fairies should lift their respective forgetting spells, and in the future, every fairy would receive one month every year to spend in Esperia—with their family, their friends, or however they pleased. Chiara’s time home would begin as soon as she set aside her wand. Spring seemed to have arrived overnight. Daffodils and violets bloomed from the flowerbeds along the cobblestone streets, birds chirped and whistled from every tree, and the town square was busier than ever. Hardly anyone noticed Chiara and Ilaria walking along Pine Grove. “You know what I wished, all those years ago when we were girls?” Ilaria’s voice hitched, and her eyes turned wet. “You thought I wished to be an opera singer. The best in all of Esperia.” “Didn’t you?” She shook her head. “I wished that we would be together, always.” Chiara swallowed hard. She hugged her sister. “We will be together. I’m coming, too, remember?
“Give me a moment on my own,” Ilaria said, flipping her gray hair. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Though I don’t even have a room anymore. Our grandnieces have taken it over.” “They’re still young,” said Chiara with a smile. “I’m sure they’d be happy to share. Maybe in exchange for singing lessons.” Ilaria tossed her a skeptical look, but as if on cue, Nina and Dafne Belmagio raced each other down the road. In her haste, little Nina didn’t look where she was going and nearly bumped into Ilaria. “I’m sorry!” the young girl cried. Her red hair bow had come undone while she was running, and it fell onto the ground. As Ily knelt to pick it up, Dafne went over to her sister’s side. “Told you to look where you’re going when we race. Come on, Grandpa’s waiting for us to help make cookies. We should—” “Don’t forget your ribbon,” said Ilaria, calling after the pair as they headed toward the bakery. Dafne glanced over her shoulder. “You sound familiar,” she said, her bright green eyes rounding at the sight of Ily. “Do I know you?” Instead of replying, Ilaria knelt and gently tied Nina’s bow back into her hair. Then she faced the elder Belmagio girl. “You’re Dafne. Niccolo Belmagio’s granddaughter?” “Both of us are,” chimed in Nina. “Hush, Nina, we aren’t supposed to talk to strangers.” “But she doesn’t look like a stranger. She looks like Daddy.” Ilaria’s heart swelled, feeling pain and joy both at once. “What’s your name?” asked the older girl. “Ilaria, but friends call me Ily. Ily Belmagio.” “Belmagio?” cried Nina. “But that’s our name!” Ilaria chuckled. “Well, you see…I’m your grandfather’s sister. That would make me…” She frowned, having to think about it. “Our great-aunt Ily!” Nina staggered back, unable to believe it. “Grandpa told us you’re famous—a real prima donna. But I thought your name was…” Nina stopped with a frown. “Funny, I can’t remember anymore. All I can think of is a goldfish.”
Ilaria chuckled. “I’m no diva,” she said honestly. “I did like to sing when I was young, though.” “You mean you’re not famous?” said Nina, blinking with confusion. “Grandpa lied to us?” “No, I lied.” Dafne crossed her arms. “That’s a big lie to tell.” Ilaria couldn’t disagree. “Grandpa says if you tell too many lies, your nose will grow flowers.” “My nose used to have a lot of flowers,” Ilaria admitted. “It took a long time for me to prune them all off.” “They must make a nice bouquet.” That made Ilaria laugh again. “The prettiest bouquet you’ll ever see.” “Grandpa told me so many stories about you. How you used to sing with…” Dafne frowned, suddenly remembering. “With Great-Aunt Chia on the old harpsichord. It’s in the attic now, but we could bring it down.” “That’d be a good idea,” said Ily. She tilted her head slyly at the invisible Blue Fairy watching from the near distance. “I have a feeling your Great-Aunt Chia is going to be visiting very soon.” “Can you give us singing lessons before she comes?” “I’m not such an experienced teacher…” Ily said. “But I’ll do my best.” “You’ll be a natural,” Chiara murmured, knowing Ily could hear. The two sisters smiled, and Ily grasped her grandnieces by the hands and skipped down the road with them. Are you coming? Ily mouthed at Chiara. Soon, Chiara replied. She set her wand on her palm, watching as Fate stepped in and reunited her sister with her past. For who should Ilaria come across—but Geppetto and Pinocchio? Laughter echoed from the end of the road as Nina and Dafne befriended Pinocchio, and Geppetto shyly reacquainted himself with Ilaria. Chiara strolled down Constanza Street for the first time in years. She didn’t have wings at the moment, but how wonderful it was to walk. She paused before the house she had once called her own. Before she went inside, there was still one more thing she needed to do. The cricket.
She whistled quietly, and before long, he appeared. “I haven’t forgotten you, Sir Jiminy.” She lifted the cricket onto her finger. “You’ve done marvelously.” With a tap of her wand, Chiara rewarded him with an official conscience badge, and the cricket preened, admiring the shiny new addition to his suit. “Pinocchio has proven himself to be a fine boy,” Chiara said. “But your work is far from done. Will you stay on as his conscience for a little while more?” “It’d be my pleasure, Your Honor.” Jiminy leapt onto the road, but he darted a glance back at the Blue Fairy. “Will you be coming, too? Smells like the bread’s coming out fresh from the oven.” What a keen cricket. “I’ll be just a minute,” Chiara said with a chuckle. As Jiminy hopped away, the Blue Fairy spun her wand for one last spell before she tucked it away for a year. In her mind, she conjured the smell of cinnamon and pistachios, of chocolate and buttery sugar. A modest plate appeared on her palm, and she inhaled. “Just like home,” she whispered to herself. With a wave of her arm, she let go of her wand and made for the humble two-storied house with a yellow door. A lemon or two still hung from the trees brushing against the back window, and a bittersweet pang overcame Chiara’s heart. It squeezed inside her, filled with excitement and nervousness and wonder. When she found her courage, she knocked. At first, she didn’t think anyone heard. Then from inside, Niccolo’s wife shouted: “It’s the girls! They must be back early.” Footsteps approached, and Chiara held her breath. Niccolo himself answered the door, and let out a gasp. The expression on her brother’s face was one she would treasure all her life. Joy and surprise flooded his eyes as years of forgotten memories came back to him. When he finally cried her name, his voice choked with emotion. “Chiara?” “I know I’m a few years late,” she said, finally letting go of her breath. She smiled at her brother. “But is there room for one more at dinner
tonight? I’ve brought cookies.”
Elizabeth Lim was inspired to become a writer by the myths and fairy tales her father told her when she was a child. In addition to being an author, she is a Juilliard-trained composer and has written the scores to several award-winning films and video games. Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, she attended Harvard College and now lives in New York City with her husband and children. To learn more about Elizabeth, visit her site at www.elizabethlim.com.
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