Layla Adele Monroe can remember the first time she beheld the powers of a pyrokenetic. She'd been sitting crossed legged by the fire burning in the fireplace, cleaning a bridle with her steady, soft, ambidextrous hands. Layla had been rubbing the cloth with leather cleaner, a smell so sweet to her senses, over the noseband of the bridle when it happened. A small ball of fire had jumped into her hand.

The bridle she'd been cleaning had fallen with a clatter to the ground in surprise. Layla struggled to put the flame dancing in her hand out before it burnt her skin. After a few moments of frantic struggling, she drew a deep breath into her lungs, relaxing whenever she felt no pain come to her pale skin.

Moving her fingers, Layla stared down at the incredible phenomenon dancing on her fire tips. Glancing up, a mischievous look flashed in her hazel eyes as she looked at the unlit candle on the table. The flame jumped to the candle wick, lighting it with just a single thought.

This was incredible! With her knees bent, Layla lay back against the floor of the living room, laughing. The fire that danced in her hand began to dance in her eyes. This was intoxicating! The power that was in her control was astounding. Just think of what she could do with it!

Sitting up, Layla looked outside. She wanted to use this power on something, anything. The pull to do so was almost too much to bear.

Folding her hand, Layla put the flame out. Crawling across the floor, she went back to cleaning the bridle, her hands rubbing the cleaner into the leather were hard and frustrated. She had to control this strong urge to use her power, and she wanted to, she really did. It the knowledge that she didn't know what she capable of doing with it is what stopped her.

With much determination, Layla built immunity to it. The want to use it always made her finger tips itch.

Six months later

With the call of her element sounding stronger than it had in months, Layla was also having a feeling of déjà vu. She was sitting next to the fire, cleaning the same bridle when the heard it; the collision, the screaming.

Throwing the bridle on the table, Layla ran outside. As soon as she stepped outside, this cold feeling pierced her senses, magnifying everything around her to a degree that made her head spin.

Clamping her hands to the sides of her head, Layla sank to the ground. Even the voices of people calling 911 were so loud. It was painful; a different scale of pain. It was cold, a cold that sank beneath her skin, wrapping itself around her bones. Squeezing her eyes shut, Layla drew in deep, ragged breaths; anything to get rid of this painful cold.

Suddenly, she pictured a candle flame in her mind. Layla focused on it, slowly dropping the shields she built up against her element. The more she reached out to fire, more it warded off that painful, centering her senses.

Keeping a steady focus on fire, Layla found she centered enough to get up and make her way towards the accident. It had been a head on collision between two cars. Broken glass and bits of metal littered the scene. As she got closer, that painful cold began to make her dizzy and sick.

Broken glass crunched under her Converse sneakers as Layla weaved her way through the crowd that had gathered to observe the aftermath of the car accident. She opened her mouth to ask the women beside her if she'd seen what happened when a new feeling swept over her. It felt like her soul was dying. Layla felt scared, like she was trying desperately to cling to life.

What the fuck is going on?! Layla thought as she stumbled away from the women. She whirled around when she felt herself back into someone. Her apology died on her lips when Layla saw what was staring down at her.

It was a man dressed in a long back robe, his hood hiding her face from view. Looking around desperately, on the edge of hysteria, Layla looked around to see if anyone saw the hooded figure. Nobody seemed to see him but her.

This was absurd! "You've got to be kidding me," She whispered. "I can't possibly be staring up at the Grim Reaper."

Layla's jaw dropped as the Grim Reaper reached a skeletal hand out to caress her cheek like an old lover. Layla tried to pull away in revulsion, but she couldn't. The Grim Reaper's touch made her heart feel light, like a huge weight had been lifted. It made her feel like everything was going to be alright.

The caress to her cheek lasted for only a few seconds before The Grim Reaper moved past her towards the scene of the accident.

Frozen in place, Layla watched his bend over one of the cars for a few moments before he turned, walking back towards her.

Layla wondered for a crazy moment if she was dead because the Grim Reaper had touched her. Her own heartbeat sounding in her ears confirmed that she wasn't dead.

The Grim Reaper was folding the soul in his hands, sticking it into the pocket of his robe. It was then Layla heard the paramedics pronounce the young man dead.

The Grim Reaper stopped in front of her again, staring down at her eyeless. Layla was so overwhelmed with what was happening around her that she could say nothing. The Grim Reaper took her hand in his, kissing the top of it.

A breath of cool air swept across her skin. Layla stood and watched The Grim Reaper leave the scene, his black cloak billowing out behind him.

"Layla."

The voice made Layla jump. Despite being on the verge of freaking out, Layla turned slowly to see a kind looking bald man in a wheelchair smiling gently up at her.

"I'm Professor Charles Xavier."