I clutched my chest. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I was not content with how things had turned out. If going back a single year—not twenty—were an option, I would surely make the most of the opportunity.
“Wentuchte, in her wisdom, has grown attached to her current work,” Lady Rozemyne said. “I, too, wish to preserve her creation.”
The Goddess of Weaving allowed a slight, satisfied smile to grace her features. “Not only is it beautiful, but it also brought peace to that little box garden. It seems such a waste to let it all crumble to dust. Don’t you agree, Sterrat?”
Sterrat the God of Stars, the man keeping Liebeskhilfe in check, glanced at the loom with an exceptionally bitter look on his face. His hair was black, save a streak of gold through his bangs.
“Liebeskhilfe can bind threads on a whim, but I require the consent of both parties.”
“Oh my...” Wentuchte muttered. “You can determine the consent of a severed thread, then? That is wonderful news.”
“She means to have the cut thread bound,” Dregarnuhr added. “I ask that you comply without delay.”
“And with how thoroughly she has been dyed, only a fool would question his consent,” Liebeskhilfe concluded. “Were the man to refuse to be bound to her now, I would personally sever his thread again.”
Sterrat had managed only a single complaint before the trio of goddesses intervened, smacking him down one by one. He rolled his eyes in response and played with his golden lock of hair. Their exchange seemed so human that it was hard to tell whether the gods really were beyond us.
“Fine, fine,” the God of Stars said, forced into reluctant agreement. “I recognize your points, each more correct than the last. It really is safe to assume that, with how thoroughly this one has been dyed, they both desire to be wed.” He snapped his fingers, and a black cloak trimmed with gold took shape around him, adorned with a brooch that shone as brightly as a star. He must have changed into his formal attire as a god.
“Ohoho... In which case, allow me.”
Smirking, the Goddess of Binding snapped her fingers as well, changing into her own gold-trimmed clothes. Sterrat and she each wore the divine color of the god to whom they were subordinate. Liebeskhilfe also appeared to be wearing more hair ornaments than she had previously.
“This way, Rozemyne,” Dregarnuhr urged.
Lady Rozemyne nodded, then knelt and bowed her head before the God of Stars and Goddess of Binding. The former swung his arm, and the void around us transformed into a star-speckled sky. A yelp escaped me, but I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop it; we showed no signs of plummeting even with the sudden absence of ground underfoot. I glanced around in a panic, whereas Lady Rozemyne remained perfectly calm, having not even looked up to see what was going on.
Liebeskhilfe pulled two of the accessories from her hair, taking one in each hand, and threw them into the night sky. They reached their apex, then came back down to her, bringing two slender rainbow threads with them. She untangled the threads from the ornaments before passing them to the God of Stars.
“I see. Time really is of the essence,” he mused, his features twisted in the start of a grimace. He removed his brooch, which I took to be his divine instrument, and said, “May the blessing of the stars be granted.”
Sterrat pinched the two threads and pulled them taut. They twisted together as if becoming one, then separated again, and golden dust reminiscent of shimmering stars rained down on Lady Rozemyne. So majestic was the sight that it rendered me genuinely speechless, and tears came to my eyes unbidden; I had just witnessed a true Starbind Ceremony set in motion by the gods themselves. The ceremony my brother had described to me, and shown me paintings of, seemed mundane in comparison.
“It is done.”
Dregarnuhr’s voice snapped me to my senses, and it suddenly occurred to me that we were back in the Goddess of Weaving’s room. The God of Stars and Goddess of Binding had returned to wearing their more casual attire.
“Now then, Rozemyne,” the Goddess of Weaving said, “you must head to the moment the thread was severed, face the perilous danger that resides there, and reconnect the thread to my tapestry.”
Wentuchte’s ring shone, and a light that reminded me of those given during first greetings floated leisurely toward Lady Rozemyne. My dear friend was enveloped, then transformed into a strand of thread that emitted a veritable rainbow of colors. It swirled through the air, matching the movements of the goddess’s finger, before plunging into the cloth on the loom.
“To the thread you seek,” Wentuchte instructed, focusing intently on the loom without so much as a glance our way. Dregarnuhr placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and turned to me.
“You were of great assistance, Hannelore. The thread should now be restored. It has not escaped my notice that Rozemyne came with me only for your sake. To show my thanks, I shall grant you a single wish of your choosing.”
“Oh, I could never—”
My voice caught in my throat. Rather than politely decline, would it not be best to seize this opportunity the goddess intended to give me?
“E-Erm... As impudent as this request might sound, might I enter the tapestry as well? I would, um... appreciate the chance to go one year into the past.”
“Perhaps I could allow it while Rozemyne restores the severed thread, but would that not change the pattern?” Dregarnuhr asked, her attention focused on Wentuchte, who continued to stare at the work in question. “Not to mention, I purposely brought her physical form here to minimize the impact upon her. You are naught but your mind; venturing back in time will make you more susceptible to our power. I cannot grant you a separate body to use—your consciousness will merely be sent to your past vessel.”
“What’s the problem, Dregarnuhr? You asked what she wanted, and she told you!” Liebeskhilfe exclaimed with an amused grin. “And even if she does make a mistake of some kind, repairing a single year or so is trivial.”
Set on changing my relationship with Lord Wilfried, I found the goddess’s support extremely heartening. I even started to feel that there was nothing to fear about having my mind alone sent back to the past.
“My actions should not change history to any considerable degree,” I said. “The change I yearn for is personal. I beg of you, afford me the chance to try again.”
“Ahaha! That’s more like it! You have my approval, if no one else’s. Sally forth!”
Liebeskhilfe placed a hand on my back and thrust me forward. The other goddesses cried out in surprise and tried to stop her, but it was too late; I, too, was absorbed into the vast tapestry.