Disclaimer: I am not Darren Shan; therefore, I own none of the characters in this fanfiction.
In The Flames.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Steve Leopard looked straight into his mentor's red eyes, looked at the huge mahogany coffin and said, "Yeah, as long as you're sure I'm gonna make it out of there alive."
"I never said I was sure,' Gannen Harst, the vampaneze, said testily. "This is extremely dangerous. You might not make it--"
"But then again, I might," Steve cut in lazily. "It's a risk I'm willing to take." He thought of Darren Shan and Larten Crepsley, and the vow he'd made several years ago in the graveyard. "No, scrub that," he added. "It's a risk I want to take."
The guards of The Coffin of Fire--that was what they called it--nodded, put their hands on the coffin lid and began to open it. As they struggled with the heavy wood, Steve watched them interestedly.
They were strange vampaneze--in fact, he wasn't even sure that they were vampaneze; some said that they were servants of the enigmatic Desmond Tiny, since they were called The Carriers of Destiny--who wore masks over their faces and black leather gloves on their hands. The robes they wore were long, black and dusty, the type of robe Steve imagined witches wore. They never spoke, just made gestures with their hands. Steve didn't trust them--but then again, neither did any of the other vampaneze in their hideout.
One of the Carriers handed Gannen a straightjacket. The latter turned to Steve, clutching the sleeves of the white fabric prison. Steve's jaw dropped.
"Don't tell me you're going to put me in that!" he gasped.
Gannen gave a small smile and said, "It's to stop you from smashing the coffin from the inside ... should it prove that you are not the Lord of the Vampaneze." Another Carrier handed Gannen a mask identical to his own. "And this mask," Gannen added, "is simply a small mercy." He grinned in a most un-Gannen-like manner.
Finally, the Carriers managed to raise the lid of the coffin and stepped away from it. Gannen approached the large, rectangular mahogany box and beckoned to Steve to follow him.
"These chains," the long-haired vampaneze said as he held up one of the long chains in the coffin, "are to hold your legs in place. The straightjacket is for your arms, whereas the chains are for your legs. Grim, no?"
Steve trembled slightly, then ground his teeth and said, "Not grim enough for me. How long will I be kept in there, though?"
"As long as it takes for the flames to die down," was the reply. "But if you are not our Lord, then you will be dead long before we get you out of there."
"If you're trying to scare me out of this, you're wasting your time," Steve snapped. "I'm doing it no matter what happens."
Gannen peered at him. "You will have to tell me what drove you to such determination later. That is, if there is a later."
"There will be." Steve looked at the masked guards. They nodded. It was time. He turned to Gannen. "Well, so long, Gannen. For now." Gannen just stared at him, then nodded slowly and left the room.
The guards beckoned to Steve to step into the coffin. He nodded nervously and licked his lips. Raising a foot, he set it down in the coffin and placed himself in it. He let the guards put the mask on his face and secure the knots on the straightjacket. He laid down. There was no turning back, now ...
The guards replaced the lid of the coffin, and then there was darkness. Just darkness.
But it didn't last very long.
Soon the coffin was lit up by a strong fire. And it burned Steve, it burned him terribly ...
He screamed and screamed at the guards to let him out, but evidently they weren't going to have any of that. What was worse, he couldn't struggle because his legs were chained to the floor of the coffin and his arms were bound in the straightjacket. Every inch of him was dying to thrash and twitch, but all he could do was scream. This is the end! he thought, tears streaming down his face, hidden by the mask.
And then the heat seemed to die away.
Steve could hear voices in the darkness of his prison.
What Is Your Name? one of them asked him. The voice was high, dead as gone days, divine.
'Steve Leonard,' he whispered.
Steve Leonard, they whispered back in their dead, dead voices. You Are The One We Have Been Searching For.
The tears had dried on his cheeks. "I ... I am?" he whispered, frightened.
Yes, they said. You Know Loneliness, And You Know Anger, And You Know Frustration. And You Lived Through All Of It. Only You Can Lead The Vampaneze To Victory. You Are The One.
"I ..."
You Can Do It,they whispered to him. They were like that small, evil voice that whispers to all of us from within the pits of our hearts, instilling doubt and fear and hatred. Trust Us, Steve. We Know ... How You Feel. We Can Help You. We Can Help You Prove Your Greatness To All Who Doubted You. We Can Help You ... Eliminate Those Who Wronged You.
Steve thought of his mother, Shan, and Crepsley. "I'm sold," he breathed, a grin slowly stretching his lips.
The flames were dying. As he watched them turn to faint, flickering embers, the voices spoke to him one last time--
You Are The One, Steve Leonard.
Then light streamed into the coffin, and he was squinting at a speechless Gannen Harst through the eye-holes of the mask.