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Shadowrealm Awakened
Yggdrasill was there; towering and powerful, like a natural skyscraper. Its top limbs were intertwined with the clouds. Hekate looked up; the sun was just now rising. It had taken her al the way until midnight to restore Yggdrasill. Then she had rested, and now she was returned to her maiden from. She looked at herself; she guessed she looked about nine years old. She laughed to herself; she would never get over seeing herself so youthful after all the millennia she had lived.

What was wrong with her? Ever since her "rebirth", you could call it, she had been so…so…what was the word? Emotional. Yes, that was it. She had been so emotional: smiling, laughing, etc. She had never been like this, not since...

She pursed her lips. Since Ymir had been alive. And now, that's he knew, somewhere, in some form, he was alive, she guessed it made her…happy.

She turned her back on the World Tree, the sudden, jerky, movement sending thrills of color down her silver dress.

She had all day. All day to restore her home.

Hekate raised her arms, when she realized: Where to start? Back to step one, she figured. Before, she had been searching for that source of power, when she found the Yggdrasill, so she was kept busy before actual work needed to be started on the restoration of her Shadowrealm.

But now, now she could focus all of her power, he magic, on awakening her home. And with the energy from Yggdrasill feeding her now, her power was practically unlimited; which was good, considering she needed an unlimited supply of it to restore her world: her home.

And now: Where to start?

She smiled to herself; she knew. Her "guards", which were practically useless until the moon rose high in the sky and she needed to rest: which was when she was at her most vulnerable, needed to be called back. The large amount of them that were killed in Bastet, the Morrigan, and Dee's siege had other clan members; others that would gladly join her, knowing that sometime, somewhere, they're lost ones death could be avenged by their hands.

And the Goddess with Three Faces knew just which guards too call first.

The Torc Allta.

She bent down to the dry dirt and picked up a handful of gravel in her hand. She lifted herself back up, and took the pebbles of earth, and began speaking in an ancient language that sounded like a composition of insects buzzing. When she had finished the chant, she breathed into the dirt, scattering it in the wind.

A low rumbling signified the coming of the Wereboar. The shaking grew stronger and louder, until everything-the trees, grass, and prehistoric plants-were shaking.

Abruptly, the Torc Allta, about thirty of them, burst through the great hedge that stood as the entrance to her Shadowrealm.

The largest of them, a gigantic, muscled, red boar, grunted slowly until it was only inches from the goddess' face. The two locked eyes for a few seconds, coming to a silent agreement, when the boar slowly knelled on its front legs, its head bristles scrapping the dry earth.

Hekate motioned aimlessly to her left as she spoke, "Go, set up your home with the World Tree," then he turned to a white boar, one of the few females, and said, "Summon the Lizard Nathair, you know what to do and where to find it."

With that the Torc Allta bust into action, stampeding around the incredibly ancient elder and assumed positions throughout Yggdrasill and around the tree, save for the young white boar, who quickly scuttled through the twenty foot doors of the World Tree (which opened of their own accord) and ran of the intricate stairwell.

Hekate turned her head back to the west. She breathed deeply, she could already felt he presence of myriad ghosts in her realm, which would serve to frighten off any attackers. But she needed something more, something more powerful.

Then she smiled evilly to herself. She knew just what...

At that moment, a loud conch shell was blown from high in the World Tree.

The sky began to turn to a pale green, the sun hidden by emerald clouds. The Lizard Nathair soared through the sky, their cries, screeches, and screams echoed through the endless reaches of the Shadowrealm. They landed; large raptor clawed gripping tightly, on the topmost branches of the Yggdrasill, heads tilting to the side in curiosity.

Two down, one to go, she thought.

She motioned to a little branch lying on the dirt path she was standing on. It twitched twice, and then flew to her hand. She bent down and drew a light circle around herself. She threw the twig aside, and began to recite an incantation that Yggdrasill itself had taught her.

Screams echoed from the endless beyond. Spirits that were made of wind, but vaguely human faces were visible, began to fly in from all around her; screaming and singing their stories of sorrow and despair.

The Banshee.

The three powerful creatures now owed their allegiance to her. And, no doubt, they would call they're sister-species to join them. The fauna of her Shadowrealm had returned.

She spread her hands out to her side as she walked back towards the World Tree. Where her hands were pointed, trees, plants, shrubs, bushes, flowers, all kinds of flora sprouted and bust to life. She continued walking this way, concentrating on restoring the plant life to her home, until she reached the Great Hall of the great tree.

Hekate, the Goddess with Three Faces, had restored her Shadowrealm. Her guards and soldiers, along with other creatures from the darkest ages of myth, had returned, bringing some not so familiar species with them. The plant life had returned, bursting into bloom. She had always loved the prehistoric flowers and trees, they reminded of her youth. She glanced up at the sky: it had been reconstructed to look just the way she remembered it from before the time of Danu Talis or that wretched Abraham the Mage.

"Hasn't changed in ten-thousand years," she said with a smile, before turning and striding into the Yggdrasill, into her past, her present, and the inevitable future.