Chapter 8: The Reminisce of Opal

Disclaimer: Does not, does not own, Artemis Fowl.

A/N: This chapter is so sad and short. Another thing, I saw a movie that reminded me particularly of this story, called "Killer Moon". Not as cheery as a title called "Tears of Blood" but it's about as cheerful as titles go for angst. What surprised me more is that it's also about a virus and the people shed tears (that are red!). But I've never seen it, but now I know it's possible to write this story! Onward!

BASEMENT

Opal's fingers rested lightly on the keyboard, barely touching the keys that held her fate. So much left undone, and yet nothing did she remorse. What remains of a world to be undone? Memories, only memories.

The memories that troubled and upset her like a frightened child. The betrayal of her father, the loss of her mother, all was her doing, and it pained her so. Not Cudgeon though. She would be sure he will suffer at her hands, even in the afterlife.

All it took was the press of the button, so cliché it made her ill. Awaking the black magic residing in Artemis's, first she must awake the original magic, a chain that began with her. It had such a strange connection, black magic; it sleeps and awakens as one. Many great minds had pondered who the true first mage was. A mutual agreement came that it was an entire species on its own. Probably just as ambitious as Opal; this was just as fitting.

And all the button does is deactivating the time field. It was hard to suppress a laugh at its simplicity. No time field, no Opal, no, well, everything. Holly will have taken Artemis to Tara, and pollute all magic within its boundaries, unleashing a mass that became wild magic, more powerful than even a bio-bomb. And it had so much more range.

She had no idea where black magic came from, but she didn't care. She just knew she had it from Cudgeon. And Cudgeon himself probably didn't care either; like how a child takes a chocolate and accepts it being there. He acquired it, and now she had it. Thinking about this, Opal tried to remember just what was in the virus.

Black magic suspended in the time field. That's how she escaped death. Other note about it is that it awakens a danger in the brain which in turn leads the brain to shut down itself. Hmm...

Some strange, sick concoction to make tears crimson.

And spreads rapidly because black magic would infect all of Tara; in its waters, plants, and pollute all white magic, making it useless.

And that's about it. So simple why didn't someone think of this before? Because they had no motive to...
Nothing could stop it. Except a lot of white magic. And it would have to be quick to not be contaminated. And this was impossible except in an acorn. Yes, the acorn, but if failed, releases a lot of black magic. And it would fail if the person (or fairy) of revenue succumbed to the fatigue that would encompass it.

Opal had done all her homework, and had racked her brain again and again for a solution. The acorn was the answer. But she had no need to worry. The white magic of fairy's (or blue sometimes) was far too weak to oppose black magic. But there was a chance, however small it was that it could go right. That was the risk. And it lay on Artemis.

Any person can refuse white magic. And he was on her side. He would take her to the new world she created. But something told her otherwise.

"He hates you." Whispered the small voice in her mind.

"No, that isn't true." Whispered Opal back. "He is just as cunning as I. He knows nothing has much worth in this world."

"He disagrees with you. He knows something other than hate, which is all you have learned."

"You know nothing!"

"He hates you."

Yet Opal held fast to that thread of hope. "No, he doesn't."

"You're only fooling yourself." Silence filled her ears, and now the only thing empty was her heart. A choked sob followed, rattling her voice. "Let Artemis go; let revenge go."

Silence.

"Artemis would prefer it that way."

"I know."

Her fingertip pressed softly on the keyboard, eyes blurring her vision. Slowly, she slipped from the high chair, with her head cradled against the floor; she wept tears mingled with the blood of her heart and the salt of regret.

"But that will not stop me."