Koroas listened calmly to the myriad of prayers and supplications that came to her each day. Being a deity was not exactly difficult. She had her duties and responsibilities to perform, her limitations and boundaries to stay within, and generally didn’t have any issues with the other deities. She was fortunate in that last regard. Few deities got along as well with one another as she did. Then again, she was the deity of nature, and hers was a vast and powerful realm. It also didn’t conflict very often with the realms of the other deities. Life and death, day and night, love and hate, peace and war, health and pestilence, among others all functioned within and below her domain and she was generally content to leave them all to their squabbles.

Still, as another days worth of faithful petitioners prayers washed over her she couldn’t help but feel for their plight. Most were simple farmers. Some needed more rain, others needed less. Some wanted for richer soil, some wanted fewer weeds and pests. Koroas couldn’t help them all. In fact, she rarely did anything directly based off of the prayers of her believers. Nature was something that just was. It didn’t bend to the whims of this person or that. Seasons of plenty and seasons of lean would always come and go.

So instead of changing the weather to fit the needs of the people, she tended to change the needs of the people to fit the land. Fewer people meant there was less need for crops to do well, and so she allowed the deities of war, pestilence, and death into those regions for a time to restore balance.

A pang struck her in the chest and she gasped. Such things happened to every deity whenever one of their most devout believers died. Most deities saw this as an inconvenience, some saw it as a flaw in their design, but Koroas appreciated it. There was so little in their existence that could bring them pain and she felt they should at least share somewhat in the sorrow and loss such deaths would bring.

“Come to me, little one,” Koroas spoke and summoned the soul of the departed.

Mist that shimmered as though it were flaked with gold coalesced before her until a man stood before her. He looked up at her and there was a knowing recognition in his eyes.

“You have long loved and served me,” Koroas said gently.

The man nodded his head respectfully and then spoke.

“Ancient and powerful Koroas,” he began, “long have there been tales among my people that those who served you well would, at the end of their mortal lives, be brought before you.”

Koroas smiled. Such tales were not so uncommon. They were, in fact, an invention of the humans. When first she heard that people held such beliefs it troubled her, but there was no harm in bending to this one invention of humankind and so she had begun to summon these few valiant souls to her whenever they passed.

“I am always pleased to reward my followers,” Koroas told him. It was the usual sort of conversation. They would express gratitude, she would be gracious, and then she would usher them into the beyond. A very few would be allowed to stay and serve her but she had no current need for such a thing.

“If that were true,” the man said and his tone, while still respectful, held an edge of accusation, “then why do you do so little for the living?”

Koroas was not accustomed to being spoken to in this way, least of all from one of her most devoted followers.

“I am the deity of Nature,” Koroas said firmly, though still kindly, “And I govern it as I see fit.”

“With my utmost respect and adoration for you,” the man said, “It has been some time since you governed nature.”

Koroas felt her cheeks flush and her face burn.

“How dare you!” She exclaimed at once and the man fell to the ground before her. “How can you be among my most devoted followers and yet question me so?”

“My faith in your existence, in your power and majesty has always been absolute,” the man cried, “But I have also come to see that you choose not to act in behalf your domain, nor for the well being of your followers.”

“Nature IS,” Koroas stated, “Whether it rains for a thousand years or not is of no concern to humans. It is only for you to do the best you can with what nature provides.”

“Yes,” the man agreed, “But you have taken to killing us whenever we begin to struggle.”

“Death is a natural—

“Our deaths have not been natural,” the man interrupted her.

There was a moment where the two locked eyes with one another. The man, terrified at what he had done in interrupting his deity, and Koroas incensed at having been interrupted. However, something in what the man had said and how he had said it held back her anger and retribution.

“What,” Koroas began, talking slowly and deliberately, “do you mean by that?”

“It is taught that you send war, pestilence, and death to punish the lands that struggle for too long,” the man’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “And then those armies and diseases spill out into other lands, and death is all too eager to follow. Even now the lands that were once rich and vibrant are being trampled under foot by either advancing soldiers or staggering sickness. Many say that soon all lands will be swallowed by these wars and plagues.” He hesitated, glanced back up into Koroas’s gaze and then muttered in conclusion, “Some are beginning to wonder if your design is to rid the world of humans as punishment for our reshaping of the land for our farms and cities.”

Koroas was stunned. How could such things be true?

“The deities of war, pestilence, and death are always working in the world, but they do not have such wide influence as you claim.”

The man rose somewhat from his prostrate position until he was kneeling, though he still did not raise his head.

“Do you direct every human who plants a seed?” He asked.

“Certainly not,” Koroas replied.

“So it is with the other deities,” the man said. “Their followers may do as they please, and once given enough of a push, they will continue onward without need of further direction.”

There was silence for a time while Koroas pondered the mans words. It had been a long time indeed since she’d last taken a direct interest in the goings on of life, content to just let nature roll on. Yet perhaps she had been negligent. Perhaps she had given too much free reign to the others without considering or recognizing the consequences.

“Please,” the man said after a time, “I lived my life devoted to you so I might come here and beg you to once again be active in your role as the deity of nature.”

“Let us see together what it is you speak of,” Koroas said, and as she did the view around them shifted and blurred. The rolling hills and distant forests merged and melted away. The sky of blue and wafting clouds sank low and flowed away like a river. The man rose to his feet in wonder and awe as everything around them reformed.

Soon they were standing in a simple home that held only a solitary room. Few possessions filled the room. A low bench beside the cold fire pit. An earthen pot and wooden utensils sat unused in the ashes. A dead man lay in the corner on the straw bed.

“This was you?” Koroas asked and the man nodded.

His soul looked much younger and fuller than the frail corpse. It’s wispy hair clung to the still moist skin that was also pocked with disease.

“Is there no one to mourn your death?” Koroas asked. Such things were not uncommon among humans, she knew, but it was still sad to see.

“My village is all but spent,” the man replied. “We bury our friends and families when we can, but I don’t think there is anyone left who could spare the strength for me. In any case, I told them to leave me. If they recover they’ll need to find a new place to settle. The ground is too full of corpses for any crops to grow.”

“Let us see if there is truth in your words,” Koroas held out her hand and the man took it. “If these things truly are as wide spread as you believe.”

She stepped forward and a thousand leagues passed beneath them. Bodies and death filled the spaces they passed through. The land was barren in many places, trampled as the man had said, or else so filled with rot and decay that nothing else could find place to thrive. Forests and plains burned as armies sought to deny their enemies refuge or resources. Crops that did begin to grow were struck by diseases of their own and their fruit withered on both stalk and branch. Without her watchful care, nature had carried on without her.

At first she was angry with the other deities, but it had been she who had let them in, had let them create these plagues and wars that now spread out and ran rampant. With every step, at every turn, she found more destruction, more death, more failings on her part to manage and control what should have been the balance of the world.

“What have I done?” Koroas gasped.

“Is it beyond your saving?” The man plead.

Koroas looked about her, taking in the entirety of the world and the scale of destruction and suffering. It wasn’t just humans. All of nature was in danger of turning into nothing but rot and decay that would take centuries to recover from. She looked down to the man, his eyes filled with spectral tears, and she smiled a comforting smile.

“No, little one,” she told him, “You have shown me my error, and it is within my power to correct.”

Clouds began to gather wherever sickness and war progressed. They watched as heavy drops of rain began to fall, and as they did, the land began to heal. The raging fires were smothered, the marching armies were mired, the suffering of the sick was assuaged, and the blighted plants regained their strength.

“I was wrong,” Koroas told the man. “My passivity would only have been appropriate if the other deities were similarly detached from their duties. But they are not,” she added with a pained look as she gazed once more across the world. “I have caused such great destruction and I will repay.”

“Thank you,” the man said quietly and bowed deeply to her. “I have fulfilled my promise to my people. I am ready to pass on.”

Koroas briefly considered offering him the opportunity to remain with her, for a time a the very least, but she recognized the look of relief and expectation of rest. Not to mention the anticipation he most surely felt at being reunited once again with those who had gone before.

“Be at peace, wise and noble soul,” Koroas told him. “Long will I hold our meeting close to my heart and dwell upon your words. I will not abandon my duties again, you have my promise.”

He closed his eyes and the glittering mists that made up his form dissolved.