Homestuck Purple Bloods Novels & Stories

Third Person Pov The doctor worked quickly and efficiently, her hands moving deftly as she made small cuts on Nicholas's stomach and fingers. Lydia and Zia watched anxiously from the doorway, their hearts in their throats as they waited for any sign of improvement. As the doctor made the cuts, small droplets of blood began to appear. But it wasn't the bright red blood that they were used to seeing. This blood was dark and almost black. Lydia gasped in horror, realizing that this was the poisoned blood that the doctor was extracting from Nicholas's body.

The air froze instantly. The smile on Cole’s lips stiffened as he stared at me in disbelief. “W-What?” I didn’t repeat myself. I simply closed my eyes. As if he couldn’t accept what he’d just heard, Cole stepped forward and roughly grabbed my wrist. My sleeve was pulled back, revealing the large patches of shocking purple bruises beneath—dark against my pale skin. They were marks left behind by needles repeatedly piercing my veins during blood draws. Cole’s fingers began to tremble. He stared at the bruises, his voice breaking as he demanded, “Why? Sadie! Why would you do something like that? Are you crazy? Why?”

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

asked Leora later. Eleanor then began to tell the history of their family who inherited the holy blood for generations. This sacred blood is the blood indispensable to the vampire family. They need this holy blood for the survival of their offspring. There aren't many vampire families left, but they definitely exist and are always looking for Leora's whereabouts. Because only a handful of people still have this sacred bloodline. Although it is heavy and difficult to understand, but Leora tries to understand what her grandmother is telling her. She nodded and listened to what Eleanor said.

A canvas inviting projection, begging to be filled with someone else's interpretation. "He won't be giving me a mask." I bit my thumb. Pain sharp. Familiar. Almost welcome. Blood welled - darker than it should be, threaded with violet. The shade of something changed too deeply to ever be purely human again. I let it fall. The blood didn't smear. It was absorbed.

"From now on, both of you must learn to protect yourselves. Now go to rest Yve, I will help your mother downstairs on making food for us. If any of you need anything, just call us downstairs alright?" I nodded on her last statement and let her leave the room. I can feel how unfair the world was towards us twins. I can feel the anger seeping through my blood because of this selfish people wanting to take our bloods. Whoever is that greater force Lady Molly was talking about, I will make sure they will suffer in my hands! They had done enough damage. Third Person's POV

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't the same naive Lydia Cohen anymore. If she wanted to play games, I'd play better. I had been slaughtered at my in-laws' house in my last life, and my father died without an intact body. I was going to make her pay, one thing at a time.

"I just... I can't wait until this is over. Until she's dead and we can go home." Home. The word didn't spark the usual warmth in my chest. Instead, a cold, sharp spike of pain drove itself into my temple. I winced, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead. "Headache?" Veronica asked, looking up with concern. "The Deadlands affect purebloods more intensely. The lack of moon connection... it’s painful." "It's nothing," I lied. But it wasn't nothing. Behind my eyes, the world was flickering. One second, I was standing in the grey temple, smelling rot and sulfur. The next, for a microsecond, a flash of color exploded in my mind.

she murmured. Curzon released his meal, blood running down his chin and coating his teeth. His eyes had turned lavender, blood magic mixing with the crystal blue of his irises. His victim still bled as well, rivulets soaking into his shirt. Curzon held out a goblet to his throat to catch the stream.

“He dead? We better start moving.” “Not that Brad,” the other replied. “Look at your hands.” Brad stared down at his hands and then he saw it. The blood from the punch he had given Xavier was all over his hand and clothes. But that was not the problem. The blood was not red as expected. It was black. Shining black. “What does this mean,” he turned to the other two boys. “I’m not sure,” one said standing up. “But I’ve heard stories.” “What stories?” Brad asked, eyeing him.