I have a message for you from Artemis, she’d said, once Foaly had released her from a smothering hug.
Really? What did he say?
He said something about a chrysalis. You were to power it up.
These words had a powerful effect on the centaur. He trotted to the door and locked it behind Holly. Then he ran a bug sweep with a wand he kept on his person.
Holly knew then that the word meant something to her friend.
What chrysalis, Foaly? And why is Artemis so interested in it?
Foaly took Holly’s shoulders and placed her in a lab chair. Why is Artemis interested? Our friend is dead, Holly. Maybe we should let him go?
So Foaly told her, and the bones of Artemis’s idea became obvious, but more information was needed.
Was there anything else? asked the centaur. Did Artemis say or do anything else?
Holly shook her head miserably. No. He got a little sentimental, which is unusual for him, but understandable. He told me to kiss you.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed Foaly’s forehead. “Just in case, I suppose.”
Foaly was suddenly upset, and almost overwhelmed, but he coughed and swallowed it down for another time.
He said, Kiss Foaly. Those exact words?
No, said Holly, thinking back. He kissed me, and said, Give him that from me.
The centaur grinned, then cackled, then dragged her across the lab.
We need to get your forehead under an electron microscope, he said.
[...]
“So, Artemis wanted Foaly to grow a clone? Even an old soldier like me knows that you need DNA for that…”
Holly tapped her forehead. “That’s why he kissed me. There was enough DNA in the saliva for Foaly to grow an army, but it seemed like a natural trace to the airport scanners.”
“A genius to the end,” said Butler. He frowned. “But aren’t clones poor, dumb creatures? Nopal could barely stay alive.”
Foaly stopped at the lip of the crater to explain. “Yes, they are, because they don’t have a soul. This is where the magic comes in. When the first Berserker lock was closed, all fairy spirits within the magic circle were released from their bodies, but Artemis may have had enough human in him, and enough sheer willpower, to remain in this realm, even after his physical body died. His spirit could be a free-floating, ectoplasmic, ethereal organism right now.”
Butler almost stumbled over his own feet. “Are you saying Artemis is a ghost?” He turned to Holly for a straight answer. “Is he actually saying that Artemis is a ghost?”
Holly steered the hover trolley down the incline. “The Berserkers were ghosts for ten thousand years. That’s how the spell worked. If they lasted that long, it’s possible that Artemis held on for six months.”
[...]
Holly squatted three feet from the clone, fingers wrapped around rose stems, oblivious to the thorns piercing her skin. “It is all done now. Either he appears, or we have lost him forever.”
I think we will have lost something of ourselves, too, thought Butler.
They waited, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Birds sang, the hedgerow bustled, and the sound of a tractor engine drifted to them across the fields. Holly squatted and fretted, dragging flowers out by their roots. While she worried, Butler’s gaze rested on the clone’s face and he recalled times past spent with his principal.
There never was anyone like Artemis Fowl, he thought. Though he didn’t make my job any easier with all his shenanigans. Butler smiled. Artemis always had my back, even though he could barely reach it.
“Holly,” he said, gently. “He’s not coming…”
Then the wind changed, and suddenly Butler could smell the roses. Holly stumbled forward to her feet.
“Something’s happening. I think something is happening.”
The breeze scooped a few rose petals from the flowers and sent them spinning skyward. More and more petals broke free as the wind seemed to curve along the orange spiral, quickly stripping each flower. The petals rose like butterflies, flitting and shimmering, filling the sky, blocking the sun.
“Artemis!” Butler called. “Come to my voice.”
Has he done it? Is this Artemis Fowl’s greatest moment?
The petals swirled with a noise like a chorus of sighs and then suddenly dropped like stones. The clone had not moved.
Holly moved forward slowly, as though learning to use her legs, then dropped to her knees, clasping the clone’s hand.
“Artemis,” she said, the word like a prayer. “Artemis, please.”
Still nothing. Not even breath now.
Butler had no time for his usual impeccable manners and moved Holly aside. “Sorry, Captain. This is my area of expertise.”
He knelt over the pale clone and, with his palm, searched for a heartbeat. There was none.
Butler tilted the clone’s head back, pinched its nose, and breathed life deep into its lungs.
He felt a weak heartbeat under his hand.
Butler fell backward. “Holly. I think…I think it worked.”
Holly crawled through the carpet of petals.
“Artemis,” she said urgently. “Artemis, come back to us.”
Two more breaths passed, then several rapid jerky ones, then Artemis’s eyes opened. Both a startling blue. The eyes were initially wide with shock, then fluttered like the wings of a jarred moth.
“Be calm,” said Holly. “You are safe now.”

The Last Guardian, Chapter 19