County Wexford, Ireland

Years passed, and over that passage of time the ancient oak did not change; save a few less branches on its enormous bulk, its towering form persisted, resilient against the very power of the ages. Neither did the meadow drastically change, nor the glittering stream of crystalline water; years of death and renewal kept the foliage at a near constant level, just as nature intended, and the gentle creek had only widened a little. Despite how close it was to human civilization, this place remained untouched, as if it was protected by its very beauty, sacred in its natural wonder. Of course, that's how it was in this part of the Irish countryside, where its people held a great respect for nature, and most certainly for the relics of the old world. The ancient oak was a perfect example of natural heritage. This tree had witnessed the very history of Ireland, all of its struggles, losses, and triumphs, and it was by that ageless wisdom that it was powerful. No one dared to harm it, and many, including the landowner whose will preserved it amidst the constant expansion of civilization, fantasized about what it had been through. If trees could talk, what stories they would tell!

It was on a calm spring morning that Holly Short returned to this place, gliding in on her wings just as she had done all those years ago, landing silently at the base of the oak with the soft grass yielding beneath her boots. Without pause she removed her wings and hung them on a low branch. In every move there was a familiarity, a precious memory, and as she took off her helmet and looked up at the ancient tree, she smiled the most genuine of smiles. No matter what happened to her in life, no matter where her journeys took her, she could always come back to this place and feel, for what felt the first time, a completely unreserved happiness. That was the power that the memories held, and how precious they were; the memories of where it all began.

Ten years had passed since that fateful encounter, and yet as she stood upon the ground where she and Artemis had met she could envision it with perfect clarity, as if it was only yesterday. Some things faded over time in memory, losing details or mutating into something untrue, but this one was perfect, crystalline in its recollection. She could remember the surprise, the fear, and the outright anger that she had felt back then, when a mere boy had outsmarted her. The feeling of the dart, the whirling chaos of her mind, and the voice—the cold, confident voice—of Artemis Fowl the Second, it was all so easy to recall. It had truly been one of the most terrible moments of her life, yet now, after so many unexpected turns of fate, she looked back on it with a content grin. It was truly funny to her, because all of her fears back then had been misplaced; the Holly Short in those days had had not even the slightest clue what would become of their relationship. How little she knew back then just how important that boy would become, not only to the People, but to her.

The thought of Artemis made the elf's grin widen a little, while at the same time lines of sadness wrinkled the skin by her eyes. It was bittersweet to look at this place and remember what was. After all that had happened over the years, she was now left with a situation that was hers to deal with, but painful in spite of her confidence to do so. After all, the Artemis Fowl she knew was gone…at least for the time being…

A year had passed since the near apocalyptic struggle against Opal Koboi who, in her attempts to unleash the ancient Berserkers upon humanity, had gained god-like power and brought total war to the People and Fowl Manor. She had intended to unlock the gate—the magical circle that entombed the spirits of the fairy warriors—and use them to her own dark aims. She had almost accomplished that goal, coming within a hair's breadth of total victory. The only reason she did not was because of Artemis. Holly could remember all of it with startling clarity, and it made her shudder even as the warms rays of sunlight touched her face. In that time she had been faced with one of the most terrible moments of her life, one that seemed to parallel with the death of her mother. Back then, a year ago, she had lost Artemis. In his heroic actions he had placed himself in incredible danger. When the gate was closed it sucked in the spirits of all of the fairy creatures that had been involved, and Artemis had been among them, solely because of the fairy eye he possessed—solely because he had Holly's hazel eye alongside his blue. His very life was sucked out of him, stolen away by an ancient power, and it was because of that part of Holly that had become part of him. To see him die before her very eyes, on that fateful day, was an experience that nearly shattered Holly's mind. The grief, the regret, the anger, and the self-loathing that she had felt were truly incomprehensible, so potent that they rendered all of her strength powerless, piercing her to the core. And she had blamed herself for it, just as she had once cursed her very existence for the death of her mother. There was no greater sorrow than to lose like that.

As Holly looked back on this heartbreaking experience, she slowly touched her forehead, where Artemis had kissed her before going off and getting himself killed. And I once said his elf kissing days were over… It made her smile, the feeling easy to recall. That gesture had been the only thing that gave hope in that dark time. The DNA in that kiss, as Artemis had instructed, was used in conjunction with the chrysalis device to clone him perfectly. Holly had been quite uncertain then, so broken by her anger and sorrow, but the slightest chance of reviving her friend was enough to pull her back from the brink. Six months after watching him die, she took his cloned body to the exact spot where he fell and saw once again the fruition of his brilliant planning. The reversal of the magic that took his soul brought him back, albeit into a cloned body, and suddenly Holly found herself looking down upon his wondrous blue eyes. She'd thought she would never see them so open again, but there they were, open wide and startling in their intelligent glimmer. That moment had been like no other. To regain Artemis, after losing him so tragically, was a dream come true—a dream that she had once had for Coral, but to no avail. Having lost so much in her life, it was startling to take something back from the very jaws of death. It was miraculous.

The sad lines on Holly's face deepened a little as her thoughts lingered on Artemis. She had been so happy when he breathed his first breathes in his new life, and at the same time she had been torn to realize that he did not know who she was. His memories had been taken from him, all of his years of adventure alongside her somehow nonexistent to him, and so his first words to her had been unexpected.

"Stay back…You don't know what you're dealing with…"

It made her chuckle a little. Full circle, that's how it went, that he should say to her what she had first said to him ten years ago… It was poetic, if that's what the gods intended, but also in what she perceived to be poor taste. There was always a new trial beyond the summit of every hill, and from the moment Holly witnessed her friend's revival there were constant trials, all of them centered on his health.

Being revived into a cloned body was no easy process, and it did not result in the instant vitality that being alive should give rise to. Artemis was weak beyond his years, bedridden and hooked up to a myriad of medical equipment, looking to be an inch within the limits of his life at every moment. It was terrible to see him that way, but Holly never shied away from it. Instead she sat by his side for hours each day, fiercely loyal, always there for him. As she did so she inwardly prayed that it would not be like the last time, when she had sat beside her mother in her final, brutal days—she could not bear something like that ever again. Thankfully it was not going to be like that. As Foaly and the other experts had made clear, he was not dying. Like any transplant, in this case a spirit-body transplant, there was a period of adjustment. Artemis just needed time.

In that time Holly had been harassing the young man with the intent of jogging his memory. Six months of such effort had yielded nothing at all, much to her frustration, but if there was one thing that she could do forever without giving up, it was trying to get her Artemis back. Without so many memories he was incomplete, as he was bereft of the experiences that had molded him into the human she had grown to admire and adore. She was determined to bring those memories back, to make him whole again; how desperately she wanted to see him look her in the eye with that humorous smirk and say some smartass remark about her bedside mannerisms. No matter how long it took, she would see that dream become a reality. He would have never given up on her, and she sure as hell wouldn't give up on him, for she was too intertwined with him to give up even for a second—her very life was tied to his, like two trees linked to the same roots. Her hope to accomplish that goal had yet to waver, and it never would, because as long as they were both alive, there was a chance. In the end, where there is life, there is hope.

A gentle wave of wind passed through the immense branches of the oak tree, creating a symphony of rustling leaves and a rhythmic motion that seemed like the very image of contentment. Holly looked up at it, while the sun shined to her left with its warming brilliance. The rays of golden light touched the holstered omnitool on her belt, making the silver lettering on it flash brilliantly; all those years had not dulled that simple yet powerful inscription, nor had they seen Holly replace the tool that Coral had given her. Its presence was always with her, a reminder of that which guided her like a compass; and serving as a reminder of all those who she had lost and could not get back. Among them was the elf she had seen as a father, Julius Root. He had been gone for over six years, and yet it still hurt to think about him. Nothing could ever console her when it came to his death, nothing ever would. When Artemis had died she had lost part of herself, only to regain it when he returned. In Root—and also in her parents—she had lost something forever. It was as if they held those pieces of her heart and soul in their hands, waiting for her in the afterlife, so that when the time came they would be rejoined. To be whole again…

One day, but not yet… Holly was content to let that time come at its own leisure. She had no time to ponder death when it came to reap its harvest soon enough. Let it come all the same, but then and only then. In the meantime, she had a certain young genius to take care of—and a life to rebuild. It was a monumental undertaking, but she never let it bend her will, and there was also the fact that she was not alone. She had her friends, all those who had been alongside her and Artemis over the years of ridiculous undertakings. Butler and Juliet were there every step of the way, as was the rest of Artemis' close-knit family—Myles and Beckett, Father and Mother—providing constant support. Mulch, that kleptomaniac dwarf, would come and go, much to the young man's criminal interest—memories or not, they could contrive dastardly plans. Even Foaly, in spite of his busy pursuit of happiness with his own family, would humor Artemis on a daily basis. It was quite a sight to see the young man successfully outsmart the centaur even without his memories. Foaly did not let it get to him, however, and seemed to be hoping that each defeat of his own would help edge the young man closer to the memories he had lost. N°1, the demon warlock that Artemis had befriended years ago in Hybras, was the final link in the chain. He understood the boy's condition more than anyone, and knew as a matter of fact that there was a way to bring Artemis back completely. As he had described it, it was a matter of small steps, of infinitesimal gains, that would eventually lead to a landslide. It was just waiting for the moment when they would all come rushing back—like an observer gazing upon a clear night sky, waiting for the streak of shooting star. One day something would unexpectedly trigger than brilliant streak, but that day's coming was as unpredictable as the very happenings of life, adrift on a sea of chance. Until then, Holly had to wait, with the burden of it mounting on her heart with each passing day. But not alone. Her friends, these unique characters whose lives were also intertwined with the young man she waited on, were shouldering this burden, each one of them striving to help Artemis in their own way. The thought of it was enough to make Holly smile again, this time without the sad lines by her eyes. Together, they were going to make Artemis whole again, and that unity in purpose was what made all the difference in the world.

With these last few thoughts instilling comfort and certitude within her frayed mind, Holly took a few steps closer to the oak tree, focusing on the sights around her and letting all the stress and weariness within her heart ebb like the steady retreat of a tide. She put her right hand on the rough surface of the oak, feeling the life within and all the years it had flourished. Calmed by the feeling, she closed her eyes and let her mind rest still. When she opened them again, she caught a glint of something just a few meters ahead, beyond the tree where the dense grasses swayed in the breeze. It caught her attention, and when it flashed again she walked towards it, a part of her knowing what it was. When she reached the patch of long grass she brushed it aside, finding an old tree stump swallowed within, overgrown with moss to the point that it seemed luminous in its emerald green. And embedded in that mossy stump, shining with every ray of sunlight, was a familiar-looking dart. Reaching out slowly, she plucked it from the soft wood and held it high, eyeing it with a blue and hazel gaze. It was the first tranquilizer dart Butler had fired at her ten years ago, the one that had missed and alerted her to their presence. Seeing it now, after all of those years, was so unexpected that it made her laugh. It was like a window into the past.

Thinking of the mountainous bodyguard, she brushed some of the detritus from the dart and gently shoved it into her pocket. He would want it as a souvenir, perhaps as a piece of powerful inspiration for his lengthy sessions on the shooting range. After all, it represented one of the few times in his life he had actually missed. She could imagine the look on his face when he saw it, and the subsequent indignation of being reminded of that terrible miss—which had not been his fault, actually. But regardless, they would have a good laugh, merely because it was such a nostalgic item; though, he would be doing double-time on the shooting range for certain, just to ensure that his aim was as perfect as always. Holly saw it as a practical joke, and that sort of humor was what they all needed once and a while.

Standing up tall, the elf turned to look at the oak tree once again, seeing in its ageless form a profound reassurance. It was time for her to leave. But before she went to retrieve her wings, she crouched down and searched through the grass and leaves, until her hands closed around the smooth form of an acorn. She held it before her eyes, watching as the sunlight danced off of its pristine surface, and then carefully tucked it away in her chest pocket so that it lay just over her beating heart. She knew exactly where she was going to plant it, and the thought of it warmed her spirit. Some things never changed; sometimes there were constants beyond the regular undulations of life, novel certainties that were unique to a single heart.

Holly returned to the base of the tree, where she unhooked her wings from its lowest lying branch. It was while she was strapping them on when her communicator came to life, rousing her attention and, naturally, her hopes—she had only just left Fowl Manor, after a particularly long conversation with Artemis. She grabbed it and brought it up to her ear, while her eyes looked ahead towards the glittering creek. The voice that came through it was unmistakable, and the tone, unlike so many times over the last few months, was remarkably intimate.

"Hello, Holly…"

"Artemis," the elf said gently, her brow furrowing just a little as her mind picked up on the subtle difference in his voice. "Is everything alright?"

"I am quite fine, thank you," he replied cordially—with a little less of the precision of intonation he usually employed, citing that something was really distracting him. "After all that you have done for me, I cannot be anything but well."

Holly felt her heartbeat increase as she heard those words—the way they were spoken, the subtle undertones. She immediately forgot everything around her, even the wondrous glitter of the stream, and spoke hurriedly. "Have you remembered anything? Anything at all? Tell me d'arvit!"

Artemis laughed gently on the other end, finding something humorous in her sudden panic—and something wonderful. "You are as assertive as ever, my elven friend…" There was a pause in which he evidently smiled, followed by a disarmingly gentle statement, one that bespoke a feeling that no amount of telling could instill, but only experience. "Let's just say that I have a lot of catching up to do."

Holly nearly dropped her communicator then and there, but by some other strength she held on to it, though she could barely speak. After a moment of shock she stammered a response. "Is that a yes, Artemis?"

"That nosy centaur and his Mephistophelian contraptions are presently attempting to listen in on this conversation, to no avail I should mind you. No, I want to say this in person, Holly. You more than anyone deserve to know first…"

Again, Holly was floored, completely overwhelmed by what she was hearing. She nearly could not pronounce what she said next, her mind was in such a whirlwind.

"Give me ten minutes."

"For you, Holly, I would give a lifetime…"

Holly had never moved so fast in her entire life; no gunfight or improbable adventure had instilled a greater sense of urgency and desperation than the one that filled her now. In mere seconds she retrieved her helmet and powered up her wings, and then, with a blast of rushing air, she took to the clear blue sky. The world was a blur, as were her thoughts, all caught up in the mighty tempest of her passion. Behind her loomed the ancient oak, steadfast in its endless watch over the riverside, and as she turned about and set a course for Fowl Manor, she looked down upon it one last time. She could feel the acorn in her pocket, resting above her rapidly beating heart, and its presence, along with all of the memories that served to give solid ground to her tempestuous life, instilled a profound calm that made her mind's chaotic workings pause. It was during that moment that she could look back on everything, on the very footsteps she had followed in, and feel the profound changing of the tide; a sudden completion to a lifelong struggle, and the start of something else. As she gazed upon the old oak, and then passed over the place where it all began, she found herself smiling the most content smile of her entire life. There was an end in all of this, a wonderful completion that heralded the turning of a page and the closing of a book. This finality filled her heart, but it was not with the bitterness of longing for what had passed, but joy and excitement for what was to come. This was the end indeed, but in every end, there was a new beginning. And so Holly flew towards that new start, that new life, while her eyes, dazzling in their blue and hazel, looked upon a beautiful world.

~The End~

Author's Note:

Thus arrives the end of this tale. I would like to start by thanking all of you for reading this story, and for joining me on this adventure—an adventure that was supposed to be a short, ten chapter tale, but got a little out of hand. Thank you for taking the time to give meaning to the otherwise solitary words that I put together, and even more so thank you for your eloquent reviews, which made writing this all the more enjoyable. As I have said before, none of this would be possible without you, readers, because the whole point of writing this was to share it. And now that I have done so, it is my utmost hope that it was an enjoyable experience for you.

This story was, as I stated at the beginning, an experiment with a few ideas, and as I said above it got a little out of hand. I did not expect it to run this long, and I certainly did not see half of its contents coming, but that's what I have come to love about it. It would seem that Artemis Fowl never fails to surprise me, and that surprise took a little over four months this time. I hope that the story and the characters I contrived for it were tolerable (I am always cautious about OCs, I try to make them fit in), and I also hope that the overall themes were acceptable. Anyway, I'm finished with all that, and this is the final product.

To be honest, I feel a little unpleasant having reached the end of this ride, as I always do when finishing a story; call it a low-key version of post-partum for writers. But I won't bore you with my feelings about this being "the end." After all, every end is a new beginning, in that I will inevitably have to start writing something else lest I lose my mind in the vacuum of inaction.

I will never again say that I am done with writing stories for Artemis Fowl, as I will likely end up being wrong again. Instead, I will leave the book open, in hopes that one day another chapter will come to mind. Until then, reader, I wish you the very best, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and enjoying this story. I wish you a Merry Christmas and the very best in the coming new year. May wonder and adventure find you wherever you are, and bring a smile to your face.

Sincerely,

John Creel