The Woven’s newfound unity, forged in shared grief, began to fray. A faction emerged, the “Still-Singers,” who argued that any adoption of the Purists’ methods, even in self-defense, was a corruption of their ideals. They refused to participate in the espionage, choosing instead to double down on their art, creating works of defiant beauty that ignored the looming threat. This created a bitter rift. The majority of the Woven, who had reluctantly embraced their new role as spies, saw the Still-Singers as naive, their idealism a luxury they could no longer afford. The Purists, they argued, would not be swayed by beauty. They would only be stopped by force. The conflict with the Purists had now created a second, internal front, a war for the very soul of the Woven.