Chapter 47: Chapter 47: The Journey Home (III)
Robb Stark.
Darkness was the only thing I could see around me as I felt my consciousness slipping away. The air felt heavy in my lungs, and I noticed that I had stopped breathing. The environment pressed down on me, showing me how insignificant I was compared to the beings that inhabited this void.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in the darkness—not a single one, but a multitude of voices, layered atop one another, speaking in unison yet out of sync.
"Outsider… child born outside of these lands…" the voices reverberated through my mind, as there was no sound in the void. "You have answered our call, and now seek to form a pact, a bond with the roots that bind this world…"
I tried to answer, I did, but nothing came out of my mouth. Panic rose as I felt the wrongness of whatever was happening.
Focusing inward, I tried to project my thoughts. "I've come just as I was asked, Old Gods." Miraculously, my thoughts reached out into the void, filled with curiosity, mixed with a dash of fear.
There was no response at first, but I could feel the presence of countless beings around me. They felt vast, overwhelming to my mortal mind like the weight of thousands of eyes watching my every move.
Then the voices came again, this time softer, and I felt calmness enveloping me.
"We are the old… the forgotten… the watchers… we are the root of all things… we are what mortal men cannot grasp, what they have dared to defy in foolish disputes… we are the whispers in the dead of the night… the blood that feeds the weirwoods… the pulse of the earth, which mortal men like your brethren have damaged…"
The words swirled around me, and though I couldn't catch everything they said, I understood the main message they were trying to convey.
There was no malice against me, of that I was sure. If there had been, the tone would have been different.
They didn't speak in words; instead, I was bombarded with images and concepts. I wasn't sure how to explain what was happening. They felt so alien but, at the same time, like they belonged here.
Perhaps we were the aliens intruding on their lands. I wasn't sure, but I hoped we could reach a mutually satisfactory agreement by the end of our conversation.
"We knew of you when you first entered the Godswood… and we knew then that you had hijacked the body of the original… but we could read your intentions, as diminished as our power is after the Andals severed our link to the land…"
A shiver ran through me. This wasn't going to be a simple conversation of reaching an agreement and parting ways. They were interested in me, and I couldn't deny that I was interested in the beings surrounding me in this void.
I wasn't sure if they were conventional gods, but I doubted it. They didn't seem omniscient, and after the Andal invasion, they clearly weren't omnipresent.
The Old Gods didn't speak in riddles for their own amusement; they spoke in riddles because their very nature was beyond human comprehension.
"You have taken from the earth… the creatures that crawl… the beings that fly… you have bound them to your will, to your flesh… and we know you seek more… using that piece of the golden abomination to usurp what belongs to us…"
My heart raced as I tried to explain my reasons, hoping to steer the conversation to safer grounds.
"I seek power only to protect my people, my lands," I thought, struggling to maintain my composure in the face of such overwhelming power. "I need to protect the North; it is my duty, and afterward, to protect this world from a greater threat."
There was silence, more oppressive than if they had condemned my actions. Then the voices came again.
"Protection… a noble aim… but at what cost?... You meddle with forces beyond mortal beings… You seek to harness the strength of the earth, the speed of the wind… yet these things are not yours to command… they are ours…"
I felt pressure in my mind as if something greater was trying to break in. When my resistance crumbled, images flashed before my eyes—ancient forests, blood-soaked earth, and towering weirwoods with faces carved into them.
"You will become our champion… carry our power… but power is not given freely, Robb Stark. Power has a price… and the one you seek is grander than most… What will you give us?"
My thoughts raced, and I remembered the conversation I had with Sylvyrn moments prior.
"I will make it so that the Old Gods will have roots in every corner of Westeros and beyond," I projected. "I will become the Emperor of Planetos and bring your faith to an all-time high. Every corner of the world will know of you. I will plant your trees; I will spread your roots across the land. I will be your sword against the Long Night and the threats that come."
The voices fell silent again, and the pressure surrounding me grew even stronger. When they spoke again, there was a note of finality—and, thank the gods, acceptance.
"You have been touched by beings grander than us… Not only the golden abomination… but something even bigger than him has marked you…" the Old Gods said thoughtfully.
"Very well, child of men… A pact has been made… But beware, our champion… For the roots of the world are deep and tangled… and the power you seek will change you… You will be our hand in the world of flesh and blood, but you will never again be wholly of that world… You will be… between…"
As the darkness began to recede, I felt the weight lifting from my mind. But before I could fully grasp what had been said, the voices spoke one last time.
"Remember, Robb Stark… the roots that bind us are strong… but the winds of fate are stronger still… and there are forces beyond even our sight…"
With that final message, the world snapped back into focus, and I opened my eyes with a gasp.
The Isle of Faces
Robb Stark
I looked around, dazed, and saw the rest of the Green Men kneeling in my direction. I found myself on my back before the weirwood tree.
"All hail to the champion of the Old Gods," Sylvyrn said with happiness, and if I was seeing right, with a lot of devotion.
"How long has it been?" I asked him while standing up.
"No more than an hour, my lord," the only woman in the group replied, and I raised my eyebrow at how differently they were acting now.
"What are the plans for your people, Sylvyrn?" I asked after nodding to the woman with a smile.
"The old and the young will stay here, but some of us will follow you and stay by the champion's side," he said with conviction.
"Thank you, and I promise that you will be treated well by my subjects," I said firmly, making a mental note to keep an eye on them for everyone's sake.
"What does it mean to be their champion?" I asked since I didn't feel much different at the moment.
"We don't know, my lord," Sylvyrn shook his head. "There hasn't been a champion for the Old Gods in millennia."
"My lord…" the timid voice of the woman sounded behind me. "You should take off your shirt," she said with a small blush.
"Huh?" I asked, perplexed. "What do you mean? And what is your name?"
"You can call me Elyndra, my lord," she said timidly, "and I can see something on your neck that wasn't there before." She ended, shyly.
I tried to look down, but my clothing blocked the view. Trusting her, I took off my shirt and marveled at the changes.
Physically, I didn't notice anything—my muscles hadn't grown, nor had anything else—but there was a change. Something like a tattoo traveled from my stomach to my neck in the form of roots.
I couldn't deny they looked badass, but I wasn't sure what purpose the Old Gods had for them.
Shaking my head, I addressed the group.
"Who will follow me north? We need to return soon, as the war will start in earnest within the next couple of weeks," I asked.
"I, and Elyndra, along with twenty of our best warriors, will follow you, and we'll also take three healers with us," said Sylvyrn, bowing his head.
I nodded. "Then prepare. I'll go talk to my father. And thank you for the help, Sylvyrn… I won't let the Old Gods down."
"I'm sure you won't, my lord. Go ahead; we will prepare for our journey and meet you on the shore," he said firmly.
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