Tara
Artemis trudged up the grassy hill. Tara had many mounds, but Artemis was only interested in this one. The air was cool, and the breeze gently caressed his face. Of all he countries he had been to, Artemis loved Ireland the most, with its wonderful scenery, myths and legends, which were now partly fact.
Reaching the Stone of Destiny, Artemis reached into his Armani suit’s pocket and pulled out a Swiss pocketknife. According to his research, to enter the well beneath Tara, one must give their blood to the stone. But as fairies have healing powers; this wouldn’t be a big problem, unlike a human.
The entrance was small, Artemis knew, so Butler could not do this job for him, nor could Juliet, considering the fact that Artemis didn’t trust her completely as she was sure to just fool around. No, this job he needed to do himself, and the only person able to enter was the person whose blood was given.

Butler’s eyes widened to a rate that made them look like they were going to pop out of their sockets. What was Artemis doing? He wasn’t suicidal, so that meant he was going to cut himself. But why?
“Artemis?” Butler asked worriedly. Artemis turned around, and the unwavering gaze that he gave Butler was enough to tell him that no one else could do what he was about to.
The giant man turned to look at his sister, whose eyes looked like giant glass spheres, staring with disbelief at Artemis’s courage to do something so…so stupid?

Artemis held his breath, and he ran the cold, iron blade against the tip of his index finger of his right hand. Since he was ambidextrous but slightly more accurate on the left, he did this with no problem.
A jolt of pain ran up his arm as crimson blood spluttered out of the cut for a millisecond, then it stopped. The wound was too small for blood to flow freely, not that it was a problem for him. The Irish boy walked up to the Stone of Destiny and squeezed his finger until a drop of maroon liquid trickled out of the cut, and onto the stone.

Juliet watched with amazement as the piece of granite rumbled, and then lower itself until its peak was beneath the ground. It then slid to the side, revealing a vessel of some sort—with one seat, large enough for a child—which rose up to accommodate Artemis.
The 16-year-old watched as Artemis talked with Butler.
“Butler, I will be gone for only a few minutes…make sure that no one sees the transformation of the Stone of Destiny. Here, take this,” Artemis handed Butler a communicator. “I’ll contact you via that.”
And with that, he slipped himself into the vessel, strapped himself in, and waited as the machine lowered itself into the chute below.

“Butler, I will be gone for only a few minutes…make sure that no one sees the transformation of the Stone of Destiny. Here, take this,” Artemis handed Butler a communicator. “I’ll contact you via that.”
Then the genius turned to the vessel, and buckled himself up, waiting whilst the machine lowered itself into the chute—or the abyss.
As soon as the craft was inside the chute, the granite stone actually sealed itself again, capturing Artemis in eternal darkness, with only the glow of the screen in front of him as light.
Artemis remembered the reading he had done before journeying on this trip. He had encountered the myth that the Stone of Destiny would roar if human flesh touched it. This, he concluded, was only to scare away the humans, but the spell started to disintegrate, roaring randomly, thus creating the legend where the stone would roar when the genuine King touched it.
Just as he had suspected, the stone did not protect itself against the blood of humans, as the fairies were too arrogant, and didn’t think that any Homo sapiens’ blood would meet the stone.
A voice sounded, dragging Artemis back to reality.
“Scanning DNA,” recited a recorded voice with a video of a pretty blonde…elf? Her ears were pointed, and there was no mistaking it.
Artemis grinned, then frowned. Earlier on, Artemis had thought that the language would be different, but here was the elf, gibbering away in plain old English.
Perhaps it was her lack in IQ, mind you, she did look stupid.
Artemis smirked. How could a fairy be silly enough to think that a human would enter the chute?
“DNA scan complete,” the voice said, and the blonde elf smiled a supermodel smile that rallied Juliet’s. “Now please look at the coordinates that you have received and type them in, speak them aloud, or drive this shuttle if you prefer. This is a voice-activated vessel, so there are no controls or joysticks here, and no autopilot too I’m afraid,” the elf pouted, trying to look sympathetic.
Artemis had not expected this and any more skeptism he had was driven away. He had to drive this shuttle. But then again, it couldn’t be too hard now could it? Considering how he could steer about any aircraft, shuttle, or vessel ever made.
Funny how wrong Artemis was this time when he usually was the most accurate person on Earth.

Some other stories by The III Prodigy:

• Artemis Fowl: Book 6
• Culpabilité du survivant: Survivor's Guilt
• Chéri de Minerva, je suis si désolé: Minerva darling, I am so sorry