A constant stream of rain filled the night air with the sound of a thousand raindrops hitting the hard road. Nothing could be seen through the thick mist, and nothing could be heard other than the tremendous downfall—not even a pair of heels clacking rapidly across the sidewalk. Elsa buried her head deeper in the neck of her coat, continuing on through the relentless rain while trying not to slip into the soft mud forming by the side of the road.

Better than almost getting hit by a truck again, she thought bitterly.

Lost in thought, her eyes scanned the thick wall of trees lining the road before slipping on a loose stone and falling hard on her knees. Gritting her teeth against the sudden bolt of pain, Elsa clamped her eyes shut and pushed herself back to a standing position, pulling one foot from the dark sludge she had been trying to avoid. She felt the sudden change underneath her as she pressed down her weight on her foot, almost tripping again after realizing that the heel of her shoe had been torn apart and disconnected. Elsa cursed rather loudly to no one in particular, her feet ridding themselves of her now useless pair of stilettos.

Well, there goes my nine hundred dollars worth of Manolos. Sorry, Edna. I did tell you that I didn't want to wear heels on my birthday. Hell, I didn't even want to celebrate it. What's there to celebrate anyway? But I can still fix this stupid shoe, though….I can just freeze it back in place and—

Before the thought could give birth to action, Elsa shook her head as if trying to dispel the idea from her brain, hoping it would fall flat into the mud where her bare feet stood. No. No more powers. After what happened, she vowed never to trigger her "disorder" again even if no one was around. She lifted her head and was greeted by droplets of water, causing her to shield them with her arm. The skies were dark—everything surrounding her was dark, and there were no signs of life except for those birds screeching and flying away for refuge against the unceasing downpour. Elsa envied them. They flew away without looking back, without any care in the world. When was the last time she did something that she actually liked? She couldn't even wear what she wanted on her own birthday, let alone drive a car without supervision.

But thinking about it now—maybe running off on her own with her father's Lambhorgini wasn't such a great idea. Although she knew that he never would have minded since he had been buried six feet under for quite some time now, a twinge of guilt still pricked her, making her cringe when she remembered the car that she had abandoned hours ago in some desolate town after accidentally freezing the steering wheel. Frightened, she fled the scene with sheets of ice trailing after her. Whoever found it would most likely keep it, she thought, trying to convince herself that no one would try to trace it back to her. But as the daughter and heiress of a man who owned a very prestigious and powerful organization, she knew that her luck was very slim.

Elsa was close to panicking once again when the direness of her situation dawned on her. With no cellphone or map in hand, she was utterly lost—and alone, and wet, and hungry. She didn't think this whole escape through. She didn't think of buying a prepaid cellphone before her departure since freezing a whole ballroom filled with politicians, military personnel, scientists, entrepreneurs, and her sister wasn't something she planned either.

She noted the drop of temperature as the tips of her fingers started to turn cold, dots of crystallized ice spreading from the center of her palms down to their base. The rain started to slowly subdue, and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a natural occurrence or the product of her own powers taking over the laws of gravity. Pellets of rain that should have been landing on the ground turned into miniscule orbs of ice suspended in midair, a much more impressive display of grandeur compared to that tacky chandelier and flamboyant decorations encompassing the ballroom where her birthday was held. For a brief moment, Elsa took in the sight of her own personal lights, the moon above paling in comparison to their luminosity. They weren't too bright, and they weren't too dim either. It was just right, and Elsa couldn't help but smile by the barest bit.

But bigger than her smile were her own flawed thoughts and fears looming over her head. The moment she thought of something pleasant, something that could somehow remedy her pain even by the slightest bit, stubborn and relentless modicums of ideas injected themselves into her mind uninvited. These were ideas that surpassed every good thought she ever had about herself and anything else—ideas that suggested and magnified her limitations, mistakes, insecurities and failures. With a swift movement of her hand, the hovering ice crystals fell to the ground and there was darkness again.

Her brain whirled with images of the catastrophic events that took place, driving her away from her home and her sister for good. The way people looked at her—her people, her trusted employees—like she was a criminal, another detestable mutant, burned her heart right through its very core. The shocked gasps, hushed and frightened whispers of bystanders, and that angry cry of accusation from that pompous Weselton CEO rang in her ears like an unending waterfall of dishes crashing onto the floor. He called her monster. Timid, soft-spoken, and awkward Elsa who never wanted to be the president of her father's company, but had to be—was a monster.

Yet, in spite of all the haunting memories, it was Anna's face that engraved itself permanently into her mind. Anna's eyes—eyes that resembled her very own—held no trace of judgment or disgust. It was Anna's desperate voice that plagued her unceasingly. Anna calling out her name over and over again to come back—to please come back. There was shock, yes, but there was also an unspoken understanding when their eyes met right in that moment where the truth revealed itself. Anna finally knew what her sister was hiding, yet she still ran after Elsa like she always did all those years. She did not take a step back, she did not waver. Anna pushed forward, shouldering past the people who were so quick to point fingers and judge her sister. All that mattered to her was Elsa, and in that moment of clarity, she loved her right there and then. She loved her even more.

Soft sniffles turned into an overpowering sob that crushed her chest like a wrecking ball. Everything hurt. Her knees gave out and she found herself descending to the muddy ground, all thoughts of decorum diminishing into insignificance.

Who cares how I look like? I'm a mutant—a monster. If someone sees me now, they would probably end up killing me anyway. And Anna…she's…she's alone and…

Elsa closed her eyes in defeat. The last picture she saw was an array of snowflakes swirling in front of her as a gust of wind touched the leaves of the trees nearby, their branches crackling from the contact. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head onto her lap, pale fingers laced together so tightly, an unconscious attempt to prevent them from shooting any more ice. Why do I have to be different? Why can't I be normal like my sister? Why am I sick? Why do I have to be a mutant? Why did Papa and Mama promise to help me when all they did was leave? Why…?

Questions that she knew not the answer of continued to weigh her down, crushing her whole being, her eighteen year old body—the body of a teenager who was still developing and growing. The body of someone who was barely an adult but forced to be one without so much as a warning. Elsa was so tired, and she didn't have any more incentive to keep on going. When her head throbbed due to congestion, she weakly raised her chin and a column of sharp and erratic-shaped ice that had erupted from the carpet of grass a few inches away greeted her. Elsa stared at it with curiosity, blue eyes shimmering as a deranged idea that she had considered time and again visited her, its need to be acknowledged growing stronger by the second.

What if…what if I…maybe if I shove it right to my heart, everything will stop. I won't be a mutant anymore…I won't be here anymore…Anna is better off without me and…

Maybe if she died, her sickness would die along with her. If she disappeared, no one would even look for her. She was a pariah, a mutant who no longer had a place to call home. Her sister, Anna, will be the head of their company and she would continue to live a normal and abundant life without her in the picture. Anna was better off without a diseased sister, she was sure. And even if the youngest Arendelle—with all her assertiveness and persistence—went out of her way to search for her, the chances of succeeding were slim because she wouldn't know where to look first. Elsa didn't even know where she was, and she was certain that no one would help Anna after what was discovered about her and her abnormality.

A trembling hand hovered over the icy spike that she had created, ready to rip it off from where it had stemmed so she can finally act upon her desire to end everything. She was a disgrace to her family, and she no longer wanted to be in a world where the existence of people like her was detested and deemed abominable. There was no hope for mutants, and her parents tried everything that science and money can offer to remedy her disease but found none. She also failed and abandoned the one person whom she truly loved and tried so hard to protect to the point where she gave up her whole childhood without question and resistance. Her sister meant more than anything in this world and beyond, yet all she did was break her heart. There was nothing left for her but her early demise. One quick push to her chest and it will all be over. One, steady push and—

Elsa, you don't have to do this. Listen to me. What you're about to do won't solve anything.

As clear and as sharp as the ice she was now holding, the voice that came out of nowhere drowned out all the deafening echoes and noise trampling her senses and logic. Elsa turned her head to her left and to her right, her pulse rising quickly in fear that someone had already tracked her down. She bolted right up from her sitting position and held the column of ice like a sword this time, ready to defend herself against an unseen intruder.

"Who—who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking and betraying her feigned courage. "Come out and reveal yourself!"

Elsa, you don't have to worry. You're alone and no one is going to attack you. Follow my voice and I will lead you to a safe place where no one can hurt you.

The voice—that faint and familiar voice—was so corporeal and gentle that it had instantaneously erased her panic and brought her to a state of tranquility that she had never felt before. But Elsa didn't put her guard down, her faux sword was still raised mid-air, ready for combat. She frantically scanned her surroundings and detected no one in sight; her only companion were the stars above that had awoken from their slumber after being driven away by the rain.

Follow my voice. You will be safe. Come to me, Elsa. Let me help you.

Elsa dropped her weapon and clamped her ears shut with her palms, her blue eyes widening in panic once again when she realized that the voice was coming from her very own head. Another set of icy shards rose from the ground. "G-get out of my head! Who are you? Leave me alone!"

I know you're scared. I know you didn't want to run away. You just did what you thought was best for everyone especially your sister. Anna loves you just as much as you love her. Let me help you.

The mention of her sister's name dispelled all fear that was immediately replaced by anger. "What do you know about my sister? Don't you dare talk about us like you know who we are and what we went through! Leave me alone!" she screamed to no one in particular. Her heart was thumping fast against her chest, and in her frustration, she flung her hand to her side, resulting to an expulsion of ice from her fingertips. The voice stilled for a moment as if patiently waiting for her to calm down. When Elsa's breathing steadied, whoever it was spoke again with each word enunciated carefully.

I know about your ice powers, Elsa. I know that they started to manifest when you turned six. I know that for the longest time, up until you were twelve, you thought it was a punishment for lying to your mom and dad about the box of chocolates that you took from their room against their request two weeks before your sixth birthday. You never told anyone that. I know what you're going through, and I understand the fear and the confusion you're feeling. I can help you. You have a good heart and you're very special, Elsa. You are not alone and I can protect you.

Elsa was stunned. Her mouth moved uselessly as words failed to form and come out. She couldn't do anything more but shut her ears again with her hands, a bizarre and unexplainable relief washing over her upon hearing her secret validated and worded out into existence. That eerie sensation of familiarity, the scandalous and blurry thought that she might possibly know the man whom the voice belonged to overwhelmed her. Hearing her thoughts, the voice broke the silence that lingered momentarily.

I can help you. I can help you control your powers and harness it safely without harming yourself and anyone else. Please let me help you, Elsa.

I am just like you.

Let me help you. You're not alone. You will never be alone.

The gigantic mansion stood tall amongst all the trees surrounding it. Elsa was only a sophomore in college, but as a student of architecture, it was easy for her to recognize the foundation of the mysterious fortress in front of her. It was a Victorian-styled structure with large windows framing its walls, velvet curtains concealing the rooms they belonged to. A large metallic gate concealed the entrance to the secluded property that was made of bricks, thick and sturdy vines taking residence over its surface. Elsa studied the texture and shapes of the citadel with the help of the dim lampposts lined up within its borders. The mansion fought against time and tumultuous weathers, she thought. There was a quiet strength to it and a strong aura of perseverance than Elsa wished she possessed.

Elsa gulped as she shrank back, her arms folding against her chest nervously. The mansion resembled her house—her large and lonely house where bleak memories of her childhood lingered, chipped and washed away by her depression and decreed isolation from everyone because of her disorder. Ridding her mind of her somber recollection, Elsa shook her head and focused on her present predicament.

She turned her head to the right, and the discreet doorbell glued to the pillar that was stood by the gate tore her attention away from her rising anxiety. She sighed before raising an unsure finger. She looked around again and felt insecure, for what she was about to do was nothing short of foolish. But no one was around to mock her or laugh at her. No one was around to call her a monster.

If it were true, what the enigmatic voice told her, then maybe she did have a chance to live freely as a mutant with people who were just like her—people who could accept her. She would finally be in a place where she can belong. She wasn't entirely sure why she surrendered and followed the voice that led her to this hidden place, but a glimmer of hope rose from the pit of her chest. It was barely there, because fear and uncertainty still held her captive—but it was still there somehow. If it were true—

"It is true," said the voice in her head, soothing her worry and her doubt. Elsa ran her hands up and down the sides of her arms like she was trying to warm herself up though she knew that being cold was something that never bothered her. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, waiting for something—someone—to magically appear and open the gate for her when she did not even attempt to touch the doorbell. She didn't notice it before because of the darkness that eluded her sight, but there was a small, circular placard hidden underneath a mass of leaves that crawled up the walls. Elsa squinted her eyes to read what was written on it, brushing away the leaves with the back of her hand to get a better view. The letters were written in gold, and the placard had these words emblazoned on it:

XAVIER'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS

Elsa took a step back and mounted her head up to the windows towering over her. The curtains were drawn back and she wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't there before, she was sure of that. Plain in sight, sitting by the windowsill in what she could draw out as the center room of the mansion, was a bald man wearing a suit. She didn't know what time it was, but surely, it was a bit too late to be wearing an outfit such as his in the middle of the night. It seemed like he was waiting for her and had the courtesy to prepare for her arrival. Their eyes met, and Elsa's mind buzzed with questions again. He smiled at her, a given sign that he could tell what was running through the crevices of her brain.

Elsa suddenly felt like they knew each other—that he knew her by the way he was looking at her. He gave her a single nod, his small smile still curving his lips. She couldn't break eye contact although she wanted to, captivated by the stranger with the most welcoming face she has ever seen next to her sister. She opened her mouth to say something just to immediately seal it shut again when she realized that there was no way for him to hear what she was going to say, the distance between them preventing the initiation of a conversation.

The man's smile grew bigger. Elsa watched him raise two fingers to the side of his head, a few inches away from his eye.

Hello Elsa, my name is Charles Xavier. Welcome to my school for gifted youngsters. You are safe now.

After Elsa heard those words, the gate roared to life and swung wide open, beckoning her to enter her new home.

74 hours later…

8:32 PM.

She had nowhere else to go.

Drained and weary from hours of searching with no direction and no guarantee of finding what she was looking for, Anna Arendelle dragged herself to the nearest place she can find to rest her aching legs. Her voice was hoarse from overuse, for she spent the entire day circling a town she was not familiar with, asking people if they recognized the girl in the picture she was holding in her hand. All she had gotten in response were blank stares, a dozen "no", a shrug of shoulders, and numerous uncaring folks who simply ignored her. But the fifteen-year-old was resilient and continued on with her one-girl mission—she was not going to give up on her sister.

It has been days since her sister left.

Sighing dejectedly, Anna stumbled into a local pub in hopes of finding a seat to remedy her sore body even for just a few minutes. Whatever physical malady she was feeling were nothing compared to the crippling thoughts that continued to torment her brain every minute of each passing day since her sister's retreat.

Is she okay? Does she have shelter? Is she safe? Is she eating?

The pub was empty, save for the bartender and a lonely man sitting by the counter with a cigar in his mouth. Anna's eyes adjusted to the dim light as she cringed, disgusted by the scent of cheap alcohol and nicotine. She carefully surveyed her surroundings before gingerly making her way to the center of the room.

The whole place looked tired and worn out much like the bartender who didn't even bother to wipe the spill he made on the floor after knocking a beer bottle by accident—or purposely—she wasn't sure. He padded back to the kitchen as if nothing happened, as if he didn't see her. Anna straightened her back and took in a breath, picture in hand, ready to approach the man reeking of sweat and residues of cigar smoke.

I'm gonna ask this guy and I'll try to rest for a bit. Just one more person…

She took into consideration how massive the man looked; the muscles on his back were bulging against his white tank top. He took another drag of his cigar, causing Anna's eyes to water.

Timidly, Anna tapped his shoulder, her head slightly tilted to the side to avoid the unpleasant fume from touching her face.

"Excuse me sir, I don't mean to bother you, but could you please tell me if— "

"Fuck off," the man said brusquely without so much as a quick glance. He notched an irritated brow and lifted his mug of beer to his lips. When he downed his last drop of alcohol, he raised his hand to beckon the bartender to give him another refill.

Annoyed upon realizing the bartender was nowhere to be found and unaware of the young girl's lingering presence, he threw the remains of his cigar on the floor.

He was about to light a new one when he heard a loud, shrill scream from behind, accompanied by the butt of his cigar hitting him hard on the back of his head.

"IT'S NOT NICE TO CURSE AT PEOPLE!"