Lisa

When she touched the root, she felt a tingle of electricity run through her body. Her hair stood on end and goosebumps grew across her skin. She inhaled sharply at the sensation, straightening her back and subconsciously squeezing the root for support. As quickly as the electricity came, the feeling subsided. She looked around the room and saw everyone else feeling the same sensation. They all held their breath as their eyes rolled back in their heads, revealing only white. Within moments, they began to return to reality, one by one. She watched as Turk's eyes came back into focus and he stared into the dirt in front of him, seemingly unsure what to think. She watched the two rangers quickly let go of the root and stare at each other wordlessly. Even Dr. Ebrose gritted his teeth to keep from speaking, gripping the root even tighter, as if hoping to return to the sensation.

"What just happened?" she asked no one in particular. The green woman stared at her coldly.

"I saw the army of the dead," Martin answered quietly. "They marched on the Wall over and over again, and were pushed back over and over again."

"I saw that as well," Turk confirmed. His voice was unsure, as if he was trying to recall a dream. "I saw dragons in Valyria."

"You all saw the same events, save for one of you," the green woman announced. "He showed them to you one at a time, but you're all connected by the tree," she explained.

"I didn't see anything," Lisa despaired. She looked around the room, hoping for validation from her companions, but found none. A million thoughts raced through her mind: Why hadn't she seen? What did the Raven want with her? Why was she even there if not to participate? Was this a fluke? A joke? A mistake?

"The first White Walkers – and the Night Kings and Queens – the building of the Wall and every Long Night," Ebrose narrated for her. "He showed us the entirety of our history..." he trailed off, looking down at his hand still fixed upon the root.

"Yes," the green woman confirmed. "You needed to see it all so you can understand what happens next." Ebrose looked up and met eyes with the woman. Lisa felt her heart drop. Why didn't I see it?

"Why didn't I see it?" Lisa asked. The green woman grimaced.

"Before you understand that," she began. "You must understand why this all started."

"The First Men warred with you," Ebrose recalled. "You were losing."

"Yes," the green woman replied bitterly.

"You created them," Beck accused. "Your magic created the undead."

"It's not magic," she countered. "Not really. It's just... who we are. Our connection with life and death is different from yours."

"What do you mean?" Ebrose asked, finally releasing the root.

"We were born of this planet," she began, walking into the room and taking a seat on a rock near the central roots. "We watched over millions of years as new creatures came and went. Then, you came," she glared at them. "At first, we didn't know what to make of you. You were stronger than us. More determined. But you were destructive," she explained. "You felled our trees and ripped up our soil. You filled our air with smoke."

"It's our planet, too," Beck challenged. "We're a part of it just like you." She snapped her head over to him.

"No," she contested. "You came later. Much later." Ebrose raised a hand, as if he were a schoolboy preparing to ask a question.

"You created the Night King to destroy humans because we were destroying your world?" he asked. She cocked her head over to him.

"At first, we tried... different methods," she paused. "One of us decided to lay with one of you. The result was a man with our power," she explained. "Everywhere he walked, he regrew the land the men had destroyed. Eventually, he learned that he could create life from us and from the humans."

"This is the legend of Garth Greenhand," Ebrose mused. "I've read about this. He was one of the first 'gods' of Westeros." Lisa stirred uncomfortably. She wasn't familiar with this legend.

"Not a god," the woman corrected him. "Not a man, either. Somewhere in between," she murmured as she looked into her hands, fidgeting in her lap.

"What happened to him?" Lisa asked. The green woman looked up.

"He was becoming a problem for us," she answered honestly. "Yes, he made the land green and beautiful, but he also created so many more men. They were born without his gifts. They continued to rape the land. Eventually, he stopped being interested in repairing the damage and, instead, decided to explore the world."

"He went south," Ebrose offered. "But why not show us any of this?"

"Because we hadn't created him yet," she replied. "Once he left us, we realized we would have to stop the men ourselves. We blamed ourselves for creating an even larger problem – so we fought."

"And lost," Lisa commiserated. The green woman looked at her and nodded.

"And lost," she confirmed. "So, we decided that creating a being of life would only create life. The only response would be to create death."

"And you created the Night King to stop him," Ebrose concluded, piecing together the story neatly. "Only, something went wrong, didn't it?" The green woman sighed.

"Once again," she explained. "We underestimated our creation."

"What happened to the life-man?" Lance asked. The green woman closed her eyes.

"He fathered many children across the land. He lay with Rhoynar and Andals and First Men alike. He is your progenitor – all of you. Your common ancestor," she explained. "And when the Night King came for him, he lost."

"The Night King killed him?" Ebrose asked. She shook her head.

"No," she answered. "He fled east."

"And created dragons," Turk suddenly announced, looking up. The green woman gave him a sad smile.

"Yes," she answered. "He wanted a weapon to fight back, so he created dragons and the children capable of wielding them as weapons." Ebrose gasped.

"You mean," he began, taking a deep breath. "That old Valyria was founded by Garth Greenhand?"

"His children," she corrected. "Garth sacrificed himself when he created his last children – imbuing them with the last of his power," she explained before standing and climbing some of the roots into the center of the tree. She ran her hand gently over the skull stuck in the root structure.

"The Three-Eyed Raven," Lisa realized. "That was one of them." The green woman nodded.

"Among others, yes," she answered. "All of them were a fraction of his power. They were worshipped. Men built temples to them," she explained, staring at the skull. "They all exist still – each one serving their original purpose in different ways."

"The Old Gods," Beck offered.

"Some of them," the green woman confirmed. "Even the Night King was worshipped. In this land, he was called the Stranger. In the east, the Great Other. Many men worshipped the idea of death while fighting against it with every fiber of their being. Your race is a collection of odd contradictions," she mused.

"You must not have felt too bad about trying to kill us, then," Beck snorted. She glared at him.

"Not in the slightest," she agreed. "But then this one came back to us," she went on, looking back at the skull.

"That's him?" Lisa asked. The green woman shrugged.

"Yes, and no," she answered. "The Raven exists outside of the constraints of time. His power transcends human form."

"Just as the Night King chooses a new host, so does the Raven?" Lisa asked.

"They all do," the woman confirmed. "They're constantly a part of this world, even without form." Ebrose raised his hand again.

"Without form?" he asked. The woman released the skull.

"This one was called Brynden in life," she recalled. "The Raven chose him as his host because he was a natural greenseer," she explained. "Most of them had some power, but this one was exceptional. Only one other human had higher potential, so the Raven sought him out in order to inhabit him."

"Who was it?" Ebrose asked. She shook her head.

"Not important," she replied. "He ceased being Brandon Stark the moment the Raven decided to inhabit him."

"Bran the Builder?" Beck asked. The woman glared at him.

"No," she sighed. "You men choose the same names so often, it becomes a chore to keep track. The Brandon I speak of lived thousands of years later."

"I think I understand," Lisa finally said, her voice betraying her uncertainty. "The Raven is Brandon Stark, but his mortal form is dead, and the Raven is seeking a new host."

"You're correct that the Raven is speaking to you through time," she smiled. "But it's not a new host he's looking for. He exists eternally because he exists outside of time. Having his current host allows him the luxury of a mortal form when you encounter him. Nothing more."

"Then what does he want with us?" Lisa asked. "Why are we here?"

"Because you're also correct that he's looking for a new host, only... it's not for him."