As I awoke, I felt the string holding my mouth shut was loosened, my speech finally unobstructed. The String was still there just loose, my mouth now able to open and close. Getting up off the ground, I held the space stitching Needle in my hand, looking around I noticed an invisible length of string extending from the eye of the needle.
I followed the string to a large spool hidden behind vines, this spool giving off an aura of divinity and power. It was Divine String, something that was used in the original creation of the world, it was said that the goddess that had owned the string had abandoned this world. I now knew that that story was a lie.
"I-I w-wonder i-if I-I'm a-allowed t-to u-use t-this..?"
Picking up the spool, I placed it on my back and began using it to create some clothes for myself, the power flowing through my body having destroyed my clothes. Once I had a black dress with some mythril armor plates hidden inside, I used my new power to summon a pair of divine scissors to cut the thread, Divine string being able to turn into anything as long as a strong will is imbued within.
I had all this knowledge from the power the goddess granted me, alongside my education when I was still a duke's daughter back in the Demon Kingdom. Now clothed and feeling untouchable, I channeled my mana into the needle and swung it, cutting a hole in space for me to travel through.
***
(3rd person POV)
In an old castle a group of arachnid and marionette demons sit in worship alongside many other races, a large but thin marionette demon standing in front of a large stone statue of a spider goddess sitting at a loom gives a devout cry to his goddess.
"I pray to the Goddess of Life and Creativity, the Great Weaver, The Mother of The World, Grant us your loyal servants an oracle, a sign you still live!"
Suddenly a young Arachne priestess begins to shake as her eyes roll back, her voice distorted by a divine echo.
" Black as night and white as snow, a needle and thread sews the world together, the Weaver is angry, her Will defied, her champions marching, her fury personified. A Silent Doll holds the Divine Threads, the False Gods' Twilight has arrived."
Hearing the words of their goddess, the Cultists all cheer in delight, raising up the girl as their Saintess, as the Paladins of the goddess begin marching out in search of the champion their goddess described.
