Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

The wooden bowl and spoon made of weirwood were carved inside and out with human faces. White wood, red faces, like a heart tree.

The wooden bowl contained a large clump of crushed weirwood seeds.

It was a dense, pale white paste, mixed with blood-like dark red juice, ordinary disgusting, making one lose appetite.

How did it stimulate the talent of the Green Prophet?

Joffrey really couldn't figure out the answer.

"Leaf, the revival of the Children of the Forest begins from this moment, starting with you."

He handed the wooden bowl to those small claws.

Leaf steadily took the wooden spoon in the bowl, one spoonful at a time, very calmly, as if chewing colorless and tasteless air.

Leaf knew this ritual.

There were countless weirwood trees in the homeland, and every member of the tribe could easily perform this ritual, but everyone always understood that they didn't have this talent, so they never even tried it.

Do I have the talent now?

Leaf silently prayed to the gods in the forest and the earth, praying that the gods would make this ritual successful, so that she could see the tribesmen in her homeland again.

Leaf swallowed the last mouthful of seeds.

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

Bran and Arya opened their eyes wide, craning their necks to look at the little elf under the weirwood tree.

Summer, Nymeria, and Lady, the three direwolves, were quietly lying on the lush green grass, panting with their long tongues. Did they feel something?

Even Duke Eddard, who was preoccupied, was staring straight at this side, obviously unable to ignore it.

Joffrey's inner doubts were not resolved at all. From beginning to end, he didn't find any abnormal changes from Leaf or nearby.

Failed?

He walked to Leaf's side, "How do you feel? Is the weirwood calling you?"

Leaf shook her head blankly, "I don't feel anything, maybe I really don't have the talent of a Green Prophet. I'm really sorry, I disappointed you."

A childish, surprised, and disappointed sigh immediately sounded not far behind him.

"Don't rush to give up." Joffrey separated a part of his spirit and squeezed into Leaf's body, "Enter the weirwood tree and try."

Leaf awkwardly turned her neck, trying to ignore the other thought in her body.

"Alright."

She closed her eyes, relaxed, and leaned against the weirwood trunk behind her, feeling every inch of its skin and flesh, every breath.

It was indeed breathing.

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

The oldest weirwood trees had seen the past even longer than the Dawn Age, the first meeting between the First Men and the tribe, the first drop of blood.

They witnessed the immeasurable sea destroying the Arm of Dorne, forming fragmented stepping stone islands, but this still did not stop the First Men from the east from crossing the Narrow Sea with horses, bronze, and leather armor in an endless stream.

They witnessed the oath between the First Men and the tribe. The First Men obtained the plains, grasslands, mountains, and coasts, while the forests belonged to the tribe.

Eventually, 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 the world, devouring all life. The tribe and the First Men then united, and the heroes defeated the Others.

They witnessed the establishment of that blue ice wall. Ancient and powerful magic turned those ice into the nightmare of the Others, what a great invention.

They witnessed the Andals and the Rhoynar enter Westeros, the human kings in the south fought endlessly, and the tribe completely disappeared in the south.

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

The weirwood trees knew all of this.

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

She breathed a sigh of relief, and the leaves of the weirwood tree were immediately blown by the wind, rustling.

She took a long breath, and fresh air poured into her body through countless pores on the leaves, bark, and roots, filled with vitality and the breath of life, it was really happiness.

I am the weirwood tree now. She thought of this in contentment.

We are. Another melody came from the trees.

The human king is speaking, he is also there. Leaf gradually regained her thoughts.

The king shook the leaves of the weirwood tree: All the weirwood trees are eyes, try to think of the place you want to see, think of the time you want to see.

Leaf missed her homeland.

The air immediately became cold and dark, and faint sounds echoed in the cave, deep and quiet. Familiar homeland.

Leaf saw as many as hundreds of tribesmen below, piously praying to the gods in the trees, with short spears and blades made of dragon crystal placed on the ground beside them. Unfamiliar homeland.

At this time, the wise man with green eyes among the tribesmen raised his head, as if he saw the current self.

Leaf really wanted to tell him everything, to tell him how difficult the tribe was now, how much help it needed. Unfortunately, this was just a past image.

Leaf awkwardly fiddled with time, the scenes in front of her flashed by, as fast as the wings of a swift, as hazy as floating smoke, but she could still see the tribe declining little by little.

I have successfully approached the present. Leaf was happy for herself, and even more sad for the tribe.

Finally, a familiar face appeared in front of the tree, the one-eyed Brynden being led into the homeland by the then self and several other tribesmen.

Leaf still remembered everything that day. The old man successfully passed the ritual and became the last Green Prophet.

The environment suddenly went dark.

Leaf broke away from this weirwood tree and merged with another existence deeper in the cave.

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

The throne of the Green Prophet. Leaf understood.

She continued to swim hard in the river of time, hoping to find the last Green Prophet somewhere.

She came to the end of the river, at this moment, although the Green Prophet's body was there, his soul had already delved into the vast past of the weirwood tree.

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

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

Two strange souls entered his throne! Bloodraven was about to return to his body immediately.

Joffrey sent out a soothing message: Green Prophet, don't be afraid, we had a very pleasant exchange in the Riverlands last time. How is it, did you find Bloodraven?

It's him! Bloodraven calmed down a little, and then noticed that the other soul belonged to the Children of the Forest who went south.

A message came from the throne to Bloodraven again: If you can't find Bloodraven, then forget it, the land beyond the Wall is too dangerous, you shouldn't waste your lives in vain, you should make plans early and return to the Wall.

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

He sighed leisurely 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 original mixed gold had disappeared without a trace.

The symbol of the Green Prophet.

The three direwolves howled in celebration at the same time.

Joffrey, who had accompanied Leaf throughout the entire experience, fell into deep thought.

The secrets of the Old Gods...