Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

The wooden bowl and spoon made of weirwood were carved with human faces inside and out. White wood, red faces, just like the Heart Tree.

The wooden bowl held a large mass of mashed weirwood seeds.

It was a thick, pale paste, mixed with blood-like dark red juice, simply disgusting and completely unappetizing.

How could it stimulate the talent of a Greenseer?

Joffrey couldn't figure out the answer.

"Leaf, the revival of the Children of the Forest begins now, with you."

He handed the wooden bowl to the small claws.

Leaf steadily picked up the wooden spoon from the bowl and ate spoon by spoon, very calmly, as if she were chewing on colorless and tasteless air.

Leaf knew this ritual.

There were countless weirwoods in her home, and every member of the tribe could easily perform this ritual, but everyone always knew they didn't have this talent, so they didn't even try.

Do I have the talent now?

Leaf silently prayed to The Gods in the forest and the earth, asking the deities to make this ritual successful, so that she could see her tribesmen in her home again.

Leaf swallowed the last bite of seeds.

The human faces carved inside the wooden bowl had reappeared, as if they were telling her something, or perhaps giving a blessing.

Bran and Arya's Eyes were wide open, craning their necks to look at the little sprite under the weirwood tree.

Summer, Nymeria, and Lady, the three Direwolves, lay quietly on the lush green grass, panting with their long tongues hanging out. Did they sense something?

Even Lord Eddard, who was preoccupied, stared straight over here, clearly unable to ignore it.

Joffrey's inner doubts were not dispelled in the slightest. From beginning to end, he didn't find any abnormal changes in Leaf or nearby.

Failed?

He walked up to Leaf. "How do you feel? Is the weirwood calling you?"

Leaf shook her head blankly. "I don't feel anything. Perhaps I really don't have the talent of a Greenseer. I'm truly sorry, I've disappointed you."

Immediately behind him, not far away, childish sighs of surprise and disappointment sounded.

"Don't give up so quickly." Joffrey concentrated a part of his mind and squeezed into Leaf's body. "Try entering the weirwood."

Leaf twisted her neck awkwardly, trying to ignore the other consciousness inside her body.

"Okay."

She closed her Eyes, leaned back against the weirwood trunk behind her, and felt every inch of its skin and flesh, every breath.

It was indeed breathing.

Every member of the tribe knew that the weirwood's breathing never stopped, from the moment it was born into this world until the eternal future, it had always been watching.

The oldest weirwoods had seen a past even more ancient than the Dawn Age, the first meeting between the First Men and the tribes, the first blood.

They witnessed the boundless sea destroy the Arm of Dorne, forming the fragmented Stepstones, yet this still did not stop the First Men from the east crossing the Narrow Sea with horses, bronze, and leather armor, in an endless stream.

They witnessed the alliance between the First Men and the tribes. The First Men gained the plains, grasslands, mountains, and coasts, while the forests belonged to the tribes.

Ultimately, the First Men converted to The Gods in the forest and the earth.

They witnessed the arrival of The Long Night. Endless cold and darkness swept across the world, devouring all Life. The tribes and the First Men then united, and heroes defeated the Others.

They witnessed the construction of that blue wall of Ice. Ancient and powerful magic turned that Ice into a nightmare for the Others, what a great invention.

They witnessed the Andals and the Rhoynar entering Westeros, the human Kings in the south constantly fighting, and the tribes completely disappearing in the south.

Finally, the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar had the same King.

The weirwoods knew all of this.

They were almost equal to those long histories. And they would continue to faithfully record the distant future, quietly, silently, without a trace of prejudice.

She exhaled softly, and the weirwood's leaves were immediately blown by the wind, rustling.

She inhaled deeply, and fresh air surged into her body through countless pores on the leaves, bark, and roots, full of vitality and the breath of Life, truly blissful.

I am the weirwood now. She thought this in her comfort.

We are. Another melody came from within the tree.

The human King is speaking, he is also here. Leaf gradually regained her thoughts.

The King rustled the weirwood's leaves: All weirwoods are Eyes, try to think of the place you want to see, think of the time you want to see.

Leaf yearned for her home.

The air immediately became cold and dark, and faint sounds echoed in the cave, deep and quiet. Her familiar home.

Leaf saw hundreds of tribesmen below, praying devoutly to the deities in the trees, with short spears and sharp blades made of Dragon Glass placed on the ground beside them. An unfamiliar home.

At this moment, the green-eyed wise man among the tribesmen looked up, seemingly seeing her present self.

Leaf really wanted to tell him everything, to tell him how difficult things were for the tribe now, how much they needed help. Unfortunately, this was just an image of the past.

Leaf awkwardly fiddled with time, and the scenes before her flashed by one after another, as fast as the wings of a swift, as hazy as drifting smoke, but she could still see the tribe gradually declining.

I successfully approached the present. Leaf was happy for herself, and sad for her tribe.

Finally, a familiar face appeared before the tree. The one-eyed Brynden was being led into their home by his younger self and several other tribesmen.

Leaf remembered everything about that day. The old man successfully passed the ceremony and became the last Greenseer.

The surroundings suddenly went dark.

Leaf detached from this Weirwood and merged with another existence deeper within the cave.

Leaf clearly felt the difference. Her roots were arranged in a special shape, just large enough to accommodate a tall human figure.

The Greenseer's Throne. Leaf understood.

She continued to swim vigorously in the river of time, hoping to find the last Greenseer somewhere.

She reached the end of the river. At this moment, although the Greenseer's body was present, his soul had already delved into the vast past of the Weirwood.

Joffrey said, Just wait here, he will come back.

So, Bloodraven's soul wandered around outside and the first thing he encountered upon returning to the cave was this huge surprise.

Two unfamiliar souls had entered his throne! Bloodraven immediately wanted to return to his physical body.

Joffrey sent a calming message: Greenseer, don't be afraid, didn't we have a pleasant exchange in the Riverlands last time? How about it, did you find Bloodraven?

It was him! Bloodraven calmed down slightly and then noticed that the other soul belonged to a Child of the Forest who had traveled south.

Information was sent from within the throne to Bloodraven again: If you can't find Bloodraven, forget it. Beyond the Wall is too dangerous, you shouldn't waste your lives in vain. Make plans early and return within The Wall.

Perhaps it's worth a try. The last Greenseer was about to respond, but the two people in the throne had already disappeared.

He sighed softly and continued to sit on the silent throne.

At the same moment, in the Godswood of the Red Keep, Leaf opened her eyes, revealing a pair of bright and pure green eyes. The gold that was originally mixed in had vanished without a trace.

The mark of a Greenseer.

Three Direwolves howled in celebration simultaneously.

Joffrey, who had accompanied Leaf through the entire experience, fell into contemplation.

The secrets of the Old Gods

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