Heta-Collection: The Immortals Through Time

The Eternal Overseer

He had avoided it for so long and had succeeded in making sure he never saw it as large as this. But with the sprinklers broken and the building sealed off with burnt planks and furnitures, he had nowhere to hide. Francis Bonnefoy was surrounded by flames.

He could feel its warmth beneath his clothes, inhaled its smoke, and could see the large flames blazing through the walls. The lovely hotel that he frequented had been engulfed in flames and it paralyzed him to the floor.

He could never stand looking at flames. Even cooking was done quickly to avoid looking at it for so long. No one could blame him for his aversion. Not after what happened to her.

Francis shook his head away from his memories. This was not the time to visit his past. He needed to get out of here.
Wobbly legs stood up as half burnt palms grabbed onto the remaining walls for support. He slowly made his way to the nearest fire exit. There were several of them in every floor.

As he heaved his way through the halls, he heard light breathing to his right. He could hear the child's whimpers and silent cries. He knew this child. Not personally but he knew him. He knew everyone here, dead and alive.

He wanted to save them. Really, he did but he couldn't move. The flames had him on the floor before it even spread. He was petrified. But he was moving now and he could save that child. So he did what he could. He walked towards the whimpering.

There, he found a child crying beside the pile of burnt wood. He was calling out to someone underneath the pile and Francis knew what was going on. The child's mother was under the pile.

Without a second thought, Francis grabbed whatever he could of the rubble and lifted it off the ground. He could hear the cracking of wood and the crackle of the flames getting nearer. As soon as he heard the sounds of a teary reunion from mother and child, he quickly pointed them towards the nearest exit.

"The fire exit is right around that corner," he said as he pointed down the hall, "Go. I'll be right behind you."

Mother and son ran towards the exit as Francis stayed where he was. The wobbling was back and now even his hands were shaking. He was running on adrenaline and he knew that he needed to move. Now.

He took a deep breath and took a step but then the flames behind him erupted into a much larger one. Francis scrambled backwards, hit a pile of burnt furniture, and landed back first on the floor. He heard some creaking and knew that this was it. There was no escape for him. He closed his eyes, waited for the inevitable, and he felt the flames around him.

-----

There was a steady rhythmic beeping to his side. A soft, and smooth cloth was covering him as he laid on a rather uncomfortable cushion. When he opened his eyes, he realized why his bed seemed to be as hard as a rock. He was in a hospital.

"Bonjour, monsieur," his assistant, Josephine, greeted from his bedside.

The young woman was fixing a bouquet of flowers on his bedside table. Her fingers were twitching and slightly trembling. Francis sat up and smiled at her.

"Bonjour, Josephine." He greeted back.

Josephine faced him, eyes tearing up. He knew she was worried just by looking at her but he doesn't want to see her tears. It would be too much for him so he looked away and closed his eyes. There was no need for her to be worried and there was no need for him to comfort her. That was how their relationship works and yet here she was, at the verge of tears just with him talking to her. Really, this young lady.

“It happened again today,” she said and Francis knew what she meant. The fact that he was in the hospital was proof of that.

“Oui.” He replied.

Josephine spun to face him and he greeted her with the same smile he always had. He could see the tears pooling in her eyes but it never fell. It never did. Not after that first time.

He had shown Josephine of his…oddity. Chopped his own head off in front of the young miss and woke up in one piece on her lap as she cried. It was the first and last time he ever saw her cry for him.

“Monsieur Francis!”

Josephine was in distraught. That much he can tell but there really was no need for her to worry and he was in no state to comfort her. His head was reeling. The cries of men were loud in his ears and he wanted to tune them out. And so he did.

He opt to try to recall why he was in the hospital. There was the fire, him sitting on the floor in fear, him trying to get to the exit, and the mother and child that he managed to save. At least he hoped that they were safe. He can always check, but he knew that he shouldn't. Not right now.

He took a deep breath and took a look at the room he's in. It was small with only the basics in it. A chair, which Josephine was now sitting and pouting in. A small fridge and an equally small television. Francis stared at the television for a while. Maybe it might get his head off of the fire.

"Josephine, mon cher," he called out, "would you mind turning on the television?"

Josephine, despite being slightly cross with him, stood up and turned on the small television. It blared on and the program it was on made Francis gasp. It was on the news channel and was currently showing the incident. The hotel was being dowsed by water from the firetrucks and the screen was showing the casualty count below. 46 dead and 10 injured.

Francis took a deep breath to steady himself. Among his kind, he had always been the sensitive one, the one who had always been too attached. It had hurt him time and time again but he couldn't help it. And now, he was syncing with the news and unintentionally checking the situation himself. He closed his eyes. He really couldn't help himself.

"Are you alright?” Josephine asked as she returned to her seat.

"58," Francis suddenly said.

Josephine looked at him in confusion and he clarified.

"58 are dead. They haven’t found everyone and 4 died in the ambulance just moments ago."

The young lady stared at him, wide eyed, before turning off the television. She knew what he meant and knew they were all true. Everything he says about incidents such as these were always true. She offered him a glass of water hoping to calm him but he rejected it. He was feeling rather sick at the moment.

Francis absolutely hated fires. It had taken a lot from him. His home, his family, his people, and the love of his life. But there was nothing he could do about it. All he can do was remember the people that those flames took from him. He needed to remember their names, their lives, and everything else that he knew about them.

"Mon cher," he called, "fetch my notebook for me, s'il vous plait."

Josephine nodded without a second thought and walked out the room. Francis took this time to take a deep breath and calm himself. He needed to be rational and detach himself from the people. He needed to do his duty.

His duty as the Eternal Overseer.