From birth, Purple had known she was different. Her beauty was unparalleled, her intelligence second to none, and yet none of that had ever really mattered to anyone.

She was the black sheep. Curly brown hair with blonde strands. Light skin. Everything the family wasn’t. What had happened to their signature straight brown hair and the pale skin?

She learned early that the world was cruel. And that one’s own blood could be the cruelest thing of all when it wanted to be. No one played with her. And even when they did, she was only ever there to be picked on.

Around the age of seven, something changed. She began having hallucinations, or perhaps they were déjà vu. Places she had never set foot in started feeling familiar. People she had never known, she suddenly knew everything about.

No one noticed. She was mostly on her own, and the one person who did come near her was Lovis, and he only did so to make sure she knew her place beneath him.

Not even her mother saw it. She spent most of her days consumed by the worry of when her husband would return, too miserable, too far gone in her own grief for Purple to bother her with something as small as herself.

At a very young age, something bizarre revealed itself. Her eyes had grown precise enough to detect thin threads woven through the atmosphere, and yet everyone around her walked through them without triggering a single one.

Without even knowing they were there. It was as if the threads and the humans lived in two completely separate worlds.

Strange enough that only she could see the threads, but what came next was stranger still. One night, her hair transformed entirely, turning pale white and growing curlier than it had ever been, almost artificial in appearance. She had grown accustomed to the unfamiliar. This still caught her off guard.

She realized her hair wasn’t hair anymore. It had been replaced by countless white, nearly translucent threads, identical to the ones she had been seeing drift through the atmosphere. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she began to hear their voices.

She panicked. This would only give people more reasons to pick on her. All she wanted was to look normal.

The whole night was spent trying to get rid of it, the hair that hovered above her head, as though she carried the hair of a goddess.

After countless attempts, she found the answer: locs. Shabby and unrefined as they were, the moment she bound them with external threads, her hair settled back to normal.

From that day, she spent four days alone in her room, figuring out her locs through nothing but trial and error. Learning something entirely on her own, with no outside guidance, was its own kind of battle, but she pulled through. Her fingers bled for it.

Even after the locs, it took considerable time before even her mother noticed. But it was too late by then. Purple had settled into them and found comfort in what others might criticize, and for the first time, their words didn’t reach her the way they used to.

"Soon, I realized that each thread was a soul. While I could manipulate and control only the souls of my ancestors, I could perceive the souls of others as well... though only as threads."

Julien stared at Purple, a quiet sadness settling over him. He was glad he got to see what unbraiding her hair truly meant, and truthfully, it was stunning.

Silken, luminous, delicate, almost dreamy. The Blade of Purity in her hand only added to the aesthetic. But he hadn’t expected something so sad to come with it.

"When I’m like this, I have the ability to influence the fate of others. This power is known as Fate Weaving."

Purple locked eyes with Julien.

"So, I can change Scar’s fate... but not entirely. True to its name, my power only allows me to weave it."

Julien nodded slowly, working through everything she had said.

"If I’m reading this correctly, you were born with your Inheritance. Unlike the rest of us, who only awaken it later, you’ve carried this power from your very first breath. This form... it must be your Protector State."

Purple stroked her chin for a moment, thinking.

"Yes, I was born with the Inheritance. This is my Protector State... and yet it isn’t entirely. I resemble this form when I active it, but this is also how my hair should naturally fall."

Julien frowned.

"Wait... why would you join the Supreme Academy? You’re a Moon Killer! How could that even happen?"

A soft smile tugged on her lips.

"I had no choice but to seal them... the threads aren’t as strong as they once were. At their peak, I could craft an artifact even mightier than the one you desire. My threads gain power only when my family’s faith supports them, but more importantly..."

She gave her words a beat.

"Remember, my family thrives on conspiracies. My Inheritance already has enough rumors surrounding it, and the more people buy into them, the easier it is for my family to believe. The more faith my family places in it, the stronger my Inheritance becomes."

"Joining the Moon Killers back then would have been pointless. I couldn’t have helped my family. But now, with the weight of my family’s reputation behind me, I can thrive as a Moon Killer."

Julien began to understand why Purple was so fixated on building her family’s reputation. The Vey family had once been known for nothing but their conspiracies, and now he understood why that couldn’t stay that way for her.

But something else nagged at him. How had she possessed an Inheritance from birth? That was unheard of, not impossible, but the youngest case he knew of was Haven Velanora, who had awakened at six.

"When Quagmire first appeared years ago, the first life it hunted was that of one of my ancestors... the very person who wielded this Inheritance before me."

Julien’s attention shifted to Purple. The person she was speaking of. That was the one who had created the artifact he had been after.

But that made no sense. The portrait he had seen of the man told a different story entirely. The man was bald. Not a strand of hair to speak of.

"He mastered this Inheritance completely. He could foresee the future. He knew that if Quagmire ended his life, the Thread of Soul would vanish. That’s why he entrusted it to me."

Julien’s eyes widened. Quagmire, Clown of the Living. He had first appeared more than a century ago. And if that was right, then that meant one thing. The man had seen more than a century into the future.

Laughter!

Their attention shifted to Lovis, still chained on the floor, right where they had left him. They had both forgotten he was there entirely.

"All this time, I believed it was your own intelligence... yet you’ve taken on the memories of a thousand souls? And you dare think that threatens me?"

He grew slightly more cocky.

"I almost pity you. Such remarkable talent... wasted on someone willing to bow so easily. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?"

Purple bowed before him and patted his head with the patience of someone consoling a child mid-tantrum.

"Have you ever heard of Morningstar? I don’t know everything, but he was said to be the God of Light. Before the Red Day, some prayed to him... while others feared and despised his very name."

Julien grew slightly agitated. He couldn’t explain it, but hearing the name Morningstar unsettled him, and yet the Blood of Zion held no significant memories of the man. He couldn’t even place who Morningstar was.

Purple, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy speaking about Morningstar.

"Everyone feared Scar for wielding Flames of the Unknown. And ironically, it was bowing before someone as shortsighted as you that taught me whether he was worth trusting."

Julien’s mouth parted slightly, shocked.

"You expect me to believe there was no hidden motive behind how friendly you were with Scar?"

Purple turned to him and flashed him a big smile.

"Of course not. After his duel with Luccy, I understood his Inheritance was extraordinary, the very reason people fear it. Once my research confirmed he couldn’t be controlled, I simply changed tactics. I decided to become his closest friend instead."

It still sounded like a scheme to Julien, but it meant one thing clearly. Purple had intended to help Scar with her full might from the beginning. There had been no need for negotiations at all. That stung his pride, though he was glad he wouldn’t have to choose between her and Scar.

"This has gone on far longer than it should have... don’t you think?"

Purple locked eyes with Lovis and smiled.

"My fiancé helped me make my first kill... and I realized something. I’m no longer afraid. I won’t make him worry about me again, not after that."

Purple asked Julien to let the chains go. He obeyed without a word.

"You have two options, Lovis. There was a time when you were my only companion, and those memories mean a great deal to me. What you say next will decide if they still do. I know you’ll choose carefully."

It was clear Purple’s words weren’t reaching Lovis. Even now, even like this, he was still trying to assert his superiority.

"Sign the lifelong contract with the Vey family in the Voss family’s name. Refuse... and the Blade of Purity will erase you and your Inheritance."

She leaned in close, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

"Don’t concern yourself with betrayal. My Inheritance does more than merely weave through fate."