Here is the third chapter of "Empathy"! I hope you all like it; I have a feeling that the format in which I am writing all of this is becoming repetitive, but I kind of mean for it to me like that. However, this is might be the last chapter that I write before I actually begin to write the story like any other person would. Well, please enjoy it and leave a review if you so desire! I love any feedback or critiques that I can get.

Also – I am thinking of renaming this as "The River of Lethe". What do you think?

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"In Thanatopsis, there are two main personifications… The first personification one sees is death, and "death" has always been a concern or even an interest of Bryant…"

In her hands rested a new instrument of perfection. Compared to the piano she had been experimenting with until that moment, it was of a lighter burden and of a lighter majesty. However, perfection was not lost in this piece of creation… Why was the need for perfection such a must within these halls? What curse laid dormant here?

Who was whispering her name?

It was sunny that morning, but the weatherman predicted that there would be rain later on that afternoon. If she wanted to avoid some problems later on, she would have to hurry… But she really wanted to get to one particular event of that day.

What makes us human? What factors within this world enabled us to develop from the dusts of this earth into the creatures that ruled the world, but fought over it as if we had no claim to it? We are creatures of logic and patterns, of habits and reasons – we are entities of many possibilities and magnitudes of mystery and of warped realities. Definitions do not quite fit that which really allows us to be called "human".

In order to be scientifically "alive", a creature must be made up of cells, take in nourishment and expel waste, grow and develop, reproduce, react to their environment, and adapt to their environment. By this definition, rocks and such are not alive, and it is clear that humans are. But this does not explain how or why we are what we are. Many have tried to answer the above questions, but are we even meant to?

: II : II : II :

"Larkspur is floating in the breeze… / I can only wonder / What will become of all of this/ So many possibilities… / Just in case the rain does not fall…"

Adjusting it under her chin, she was intrigued by the fact that it did not feel foreign to her. It was almost familiar… The wood was smooth, and it shone brightly under the high quality polish and varnish that was meant to protect and amplify it. This too, was something more she could experiment with. But a part of her was unwilling to do so.

That part knew what to do.

The world that one sees around oneself is a world that belongs to them only. Everyone else on this planet sees the world in a different light, no matter how hard we try to see like someone else. It is just impossible to achieve that kind of wish… And it is only in various science fiction worlds where a community sees the world as a collective.

He paced back and forth over the carpet of his office, not exactly knowing what to do at the moment. As she currently had amnesia, and the only one who knew her on a personal level was currently missing, the only logical choice was to bring her to the manor so she would not have hefty hospital bills to deal with when she regained her correct state of mind. But what right did he have to do this? He did not know her at all.

But logic overcame him, as it often did. He was a person of more ration than most others after all. He did not have to forge a personal relationship with her – there was no need to, as she would most likely be able to function within society once again within a couple of months. She would hopefully then be mentally strong enough to regain her memory alone. But the mysteries surrounding her were too intriguing to ignore…

: II : II : II :

"…The fact that Nature is able to sooth death is a small lesson of itself – winter will always give way to spring: life will always replace death…"

Taking up the thin bow, she tentatively and slowly ran it down the strings of the violin. It created a sharp and harsh sound that made her cringe slightly. Something told her that she was thinking too much. She had done this many times before; what was causing her to think that she had never even heard of a violin before?

She herself was unsure.

As was predicted, rain came shortly after she was finished with her menial tasks for the day. Looking out with a smile, she practically beamed at the falling water, the dark thunderous clouds, and the winds. It was such… artistry!

What some of us will never understand, others will most certainly know and be experts of. War, death, peace and life are always at tension with each other in this world of ours. And there is no way to completely eradicate all of these tensions from our lives, from the lives that each little opposite force that can be found has touched, sullied, purified. History is not easily erase either, so what makes us think that we can?

One person is but one person, but they are still one person. Perhaps that is the only reason behind those who dream and take action, but those are the views of the ever optimist. In a world where humanity is not clearly defined in all senses as so many other forms of life are, where and how does one take a stand? Do they even think about such questions in regards to themselves, what they are and what they are capable of?

: II : II : II :

"…Take this iris and hyacinth / It is still hard to believe / That this feeling is growing inside of me / And it might take time… / For any realization to come to me…"

She took up the bow once more, and placed it accordingly on the delicate strings. Drawing it across the delicate strings, and holding down one or two of them with the tips of her fingers, a simple melody played. The composer or song was unknown to her, but that did not matter. It was not perfect, but it was enough for her to live with.

What was this sudden fear inside of her?

Why would one want to see another's point of view anyways? To understand why they act or say what they do? To know the logic behind everything about them? To achieve some sort of connection? What will become of such things? One cannot see another person's reality and not have his or her own reality soiled a bit because of it.

Giving a sigh, he sat down in his leather seat once more. He was still anxious and restless, but he had reached conclusions and decisions upon many of the matters that he needed to deal with at hand. Many of the decisions he had made had yet to be put into play, but they could and would have to wait for their own time. As for the present moment, all he could do was get back to business.

In the solitude of his office, he could find momentary peace with himself. Once outside and within the world of others, he could not ignore the questions his mind came up with for some odd reason. Why would he be wishing to come to some conclusion about the spiritual and psychological aspects of his world? Just to be able to control his fate as he is able to was good enough for him. It was fulfilling enough for him.

: II : II : II :

"I have to thank you once again," Doctor Carnell Aramis said to Artemis Fowl II once more, two weeks after the mysterious Darcia Carey was admitted to his hospital. "Darcia is really a wonderful person, and whatever happened on that building's roof should have never happened to her. I just hope that Nicholas is all right…"

Artemis nodded, as was expected of him. "Do not worry too much; she will be safe, and with the nurse you have assigned to her, I do not doubt that she will be perfectly fine sooner than expected."

"But just between you and me," the doctor whispered, his tone suddenly heavy and dark. "There are some things that you should be forewarned of about Darcia." He then passed Artemis a rather thick envelope – the odd shade of yellow-orange business kind. "This contain records and such from various places… do not let this fall into anyone's hands but those you trust with your life, and believe whatever she says."

"What are you talking about?" Artemis asked, his own voice hushed.

"The papers will explain everything," he replied. "As for believing in her, Darcia is unable to lie, unlike most people. And you should know that someone who suffers from amnesia and is in the state that she is in is less likely to as well."

"I believe that I had better be leaving now," Artemis responded.

Doctor Aramis nodded, understanding. He was not sure if the young businessman believed him, but he at least took the documents that contained Darcia's most potentially destructive secrets. And the only thing that he was thankful of was that those were the only copies of those documents. Whoever broke into his office the night before was obviously looking for them, but would not ever get them now.

Artemis climbed into the limo, next to Butler, and they themselves were sitting across from the now sleeping Darcia and her nurse, a slightly plump woman named Edeline. Personally, the young Fowl was grateful that his parents knew of all these occurrences, and did not mind housing the young girl for as long as she needed. If he came to the manor with these people with him, he would have a lot of explaining to do.

"This girl is very lucky," Edeline suddenly said. "Falling off of a building and crashing to the ground like she did… I cannot imagine how she would have been able to survive if you two were not near by. You two are like guardian angels!"

Butler's face was stoic as ever, and that left Artemis to act like the modest one, and thank her compliments with a small (and forced) smile.

Looking over to the sleeping and oblivious Darcia, he too realized that there was more about her than there seemed. And somewhere within her mind, laid all the answers to his many questions. But he knew that the papers he still held would answer some of them.

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"And I know not the riverbanks of that damnable personage whom you call Lethe, but I for one know and shall always know the sweet taste of that pomegranate and the haunted sunlight of Elysion! Life means nothing for nothing lives forever, even the Titans of our forefathers – but my memories! Forever and ever, let me keep my memories for they are my memories! Because I cannot have any other memories in my life! I have given you my soul Hades – I have given you my soul; leave me my memories!"

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Ok… I have some notes for this chapter. Maybe I should add some notes for the previous chapter as well sometime… Ah well.

1. The first and third quotes are from my poetry criticism of Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant. Our assignment in English was to choose a poem from a list, and I chose this one. I found out that I loved it! But as for why I put little snippets of it into here, I am not sure. The poem itself speaks of how death and nature will always be around one another, and in a sense, it sends out a comforting message to those who fear death.

I also find how the title is made up of the Greek words "thanatos" (death) and the suffix "-opsis" (sight) interesting…

2. The second and fourth quotes are from a poem that I wrote and have yet to put onto my site. There is some symbology within it that can connect to the characters and maybe future events. Flowers, Flowers, according to the Victorian Age, have meanings and can send messages if used correctly. Larkspur can mean a number of things, but for the story, "fickleness" is the best one. As for irises, "faith", "hope", and "wisdom" are the most common ones, but they can also mean "your friendship means so much to me". I favor the last one. Hyacinths mean a number of things as well, but I am going with purple hyacinths, which simply means, "I'm sorry," or "Please forgive me,".

3. The last part I wrote on a whim. It just seems to fit, so I apologize if it sends someone for a loop. I love Greek mythology, and I have already decided to put some more into the story somehow. According to Greek mythology, the River of Lethe is where spirits go to before they are reincarnated. Once they drink its waters, they forget his or her lives so it does not interfere with their next one.

The pomegranate seeds refer to Persephone and Hades of course, and how if one eats the food of the dead, you cannot leave the underworld. Note: unlike what most people think, Hades rules the underworld. "Hades" is not a/the name for the underworld.

"Elysion" refers to the Elysian Fields, the place where heroes went to when they died. The word that I used is the original Greek version; "Elysium" is the Latanization form.

4. The last bit I kind of took from John Proctor's last words from The Crucible by Arthur Miller. I hope no one sues me for that, but when writing that last part, Proctor's last words before he was hanged just popped into my head.