The Gods Awakening

The daylight sky was dark with ash filled air which made it hard to breath for most beings. Rhaelle though was none of them. She was one of the old gods, one or maybe even the only of them who survived what had happened centuries ago. Now after all this time she could feel it was time finally return home as she still calls the continent of Westeros. During all these years her power has grown beyond her imagination and she even has been able to get an unnumered amount of supporters as she likes to call the people of the believe of Rhollor. It still made Rhaelle smile. At first she created this omnipresent god to protect herself but with the years more and more people started to truthfully believe in her male version making it a well spread belief.

Rhaella took some deep breaths. Not to long ago there has been a city filled with the flames of her anger where she was standing. Now however was nothing left but ruins and ash alongside with anxious slaves and citizens whose life she had spared. All of their eyes were either on her or on the people being important to them either way filled with sorrow. Each of them had to see people die cruelly still most of them had more than deserved it. Rhaelle was full of raging anger and the seek for revenge but still she wouldn´t take a life without a reason. The city she had just burned down was filled with evil injustice not only towards slaves but also to many citizens. Howsoever it was just another city she had to bring justice to and for sure it wouldn´t be the last one until she´d reach her goal.

The sleep had been plagued with pain for Ochobai. Everywhere, the children of men cut down her forests and weirwoods and heart trees. They cursed her, others like her, and saved their praise for gods less kind than she had been. She and her own Children had saved them once, no? And what was their payment? Their own blood, their own deaths. Some part of her was still aware... Still so very much aware of the world and its changes. But some things remained--worshippers here and there, mortals touched by her Old Ways. Thin tethers, just enough to call her back.

Her wakening was slower to come, quiet and softer like the unfolding blossoms of a flowering meadow. The woods were greener and the little animals sung brighter and bolder. Everything was alive. She was alive. And she wasn't alone. Oh, she felt them, as she always did. Children, even to her. She was old as the earth and sky and sea. She bore the scars and bore the wounds, but still she carried on. The girl could raze the earth, the boy could freeze it, and the beast could tear it beneath his claws, but the earth would survive and bloom again under her touch. She was the All Mother, and she would outlast them all.