[A/N- read Black Blood FIRST. I'm just jumping straight into this and I'm not giving explanations of everything, anymore than what fits in the story. If you want, call it a sequel, it's more of a seperate perspective in the following time frame. It's also where my mind and my plot problems are, so I'm just jumping in and letting Kea tell me where she wants to go.... any suggestions on the rough spots would be great. Also, I am dropping my 'don't mess up the official plotline' motto. I can't see Kea playing it that way, but as books come out, I'll probably fix things.]

"All of my dreams are lost in space

I don't know why I left that place

Once I was lost now I can see

What's inside of you once was inside of me

All of my dreams are gone I know

So tell me how badly does it show?

Lost in the darkness there's a light

but space has left me weightless so I'll put up a fight"

- Kat McCoy, Lost in Space

Keayalnea slammed into the headquarters, her flaming red hair streaked with mud and rain, her wings dull and matted, a painful slice taken out of her left cheek, following the bone, and almost cutting to the muscle. Her eyes were bloodshot, the right was blackened and almost swollen shut, the bags underneath her right one adding ten years to her appearance. The dark colors contrasted severely with her amber irises and pale skin. Her lower lip was sliced open, blood dripping freely down her chin and onto her black tank top, with all the visible skin covered by raw, red scratches, most of which had grazed the skin, and some of which had drawn blood. She slammed her hand into the doorway using the wood as a grip to keep her upright as she tried to force a semblance of normality. She felt the cold chill down her spine as the charm took effect, hiding her physical wounds. She made no attempt on the dirt. It would look horrible if the Zenith of SphynxFyre was immaculate when she came to report. Image was everything, everything. The Order trusted her, but that trust was placed in Sinia. Not her, never her. She ground her teeth silently at the thought. Sinia had lead a cursed life, true. Sinia had proven herself strong, but Keayalnea was the stranger, whose strength was proven in words, never seen in actions. Damn White Blood! she screamed mentally, berating herself with the pain. White Blood. She knew the definition- self serving, egotistical, power hungry. Lacking in restraint or tact. She was the Zenith, for sakes! The first White Blood Zenith in the history of SphynxFyre! They'd denied her enrollment at Hogwarts for her blood. She'd raised herself from the age of four, taking and using and spitting out muggles and wizards so that she, herself, could live. She'd learned the old spells, the histories, the strengths and subtleties of her kind from the last wizard who'd known them. She'd resisted, and mentally forced all other Sorcery blood to condemn Voldemort's actions, even when he'd come to the only Black Blood among them, seeking her power or elimination. She dealt fair. She'd condemned her race, but wisdom and common sense told her that they had no hope, whatever happened, Sorcery Blood was to end. There were only a handful of them left. When she first became part of SphynxFyre, there'd been at least fifty. She blamed herself, not that her leadership skills were lacking, but she felt she'd ill- prepared her fellows for the trials they'd faced. She blinked in the darkness, looking at the clock. The information she had could wait till the meeting.... this morning. There was a light on in the kitchen, but she assumed no one would be awake at this hour. It was damp and muggy, smelled and felt late. She walked as though to go upstairs, but stopped at the couch on the living room, suddenly loosing the will that had kept her awake and fighting for the past week. She crashed, somewhat noisily, into the dusty couch, ignoring any creatures that she might be disturbing, lying on one wing while using the other as a pillow. She felt the appearance charms melt off of her skin as she drifted into an exhausted sleep.

He'd heard her open the door and walk in, heard the effort she'd expelled dragging herself as far as the couch. He finished his cup of coffee slowly, restless and thoughtful. When the last drop was drained, he walked into the living room, shutting the door she'd left open, then turning to look at her face. He'd been trained well enough to feel the extent of her injuries, and they were severe. He walked over to sit next to her on the couch, recalling the method Tiyrn had trained him in. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the deep slice on her cheek, feeling it slowly close under his touch. He held her lower lip gently between his thumb and forefinger, closing the gap where it was split in half. The black eye was a little bit trickier. He willed the capillaries to close, to heal, absorbing the blood they had spilt into the skin, and the worried flesh to repair and reconnect itself. He traced the scratches and bruises on her neck and arms in the same fashion, slowly and deliberately. Once he was through, he pulled a blanket off the arm of the couch, and covered her gently, brushing her hair out of her eyes before he went upstairs.

[A/N- yup, who is this guy? I'm probably going to post again, but I'm not telling you until someone guesses right! MwaHahaha!]