According to the Three-Eyed Raven, praying to the Seven did nothing at all.
No matter how the poor begged the 'Highfather,' justice would never descend upon them. Likewise, no matter how the weak knelt and pleaded for the 'Warrior' to grant them strength, they would never gain the means to fight giants and White Walkers.
But there was no helping it. The Old Gods of the North disliked conflict and always retreated step by step, while the Church of the Seven was extremely good at playing the game—preaching, brainwashing, cutting down trees. The false gods from the south had practically driven the true gods to the very edge of the Arctic.
Look at The Drowned God. As long as it acted a little tougher and casually sent over a tsunami or torrential rain, the false gods had no way to deal with it.
It was not as if the Church of the Seven had never considered infiltrating the Iron Islands, but in the end, even Paladins knelt before battle axes and miracles, throwing themselves into The Drowned God's wet embrace and willingly soaking in seawater as they shouted:
'The Drowned God is forever the greatest god.'
The more heretical and brutal something was, the more easily humans submitted. Perhaps moderate factions like The Green God were destined to be eliminated.
After hearing Brynden's explanation, Su Ming sighed.
"Then there's no need for us to head south. We'll stay here for a few days and wait until you're ready to move."
There were many 'Singers' in the passageways behind the Throne Cave. If the Three-Eyed Raven was the CPU of the entire Green Sight, then these humans and Children of the Forest, likewise fixed to chairs by tree roots, were its memory sticks.
They looked no different from corpses. Their shriveled