The Story of the Forest

She lifted her delicate foot out of the pool and took her first tentative step. Lightly testing her weight on the firm banks of the earth. Her leg glistened with the water from the pool, as Capri beamed down on her; smiling and blessing her with Her radiance. Capris blessing, shinning through the clouds that surrounded the pool on that autumn eve, was a sign of great significance. The Goddess of light and warmth and radiance favoured very few.

Gaia came from the pool in the central grove, on the central plane, like every other entity to exist. But she was different, her form unusual. She was a giant next to her kin who arrived with her that very night.

And Gaia found this hard to reconcile.

As the years drew longer and her affection for the fae grew immensely, Gaia grew herself in radiance. Light danced from the strands of her hair, and the glistening of water from the pool, from which she was born, never disappeared from her skin. She emulated the sun and was thought by many to be Capris chosen descendent.

Capri, plainly put, was the Goddess of the sun. She was the source of all love, radiance and growth. She blessed the planes with Her presence every day. But as time passed the strength of the Goddess’ presences waned. It was as if she had an ever weakening pulse. Her presence across the land fluxuated growing weaker and stronger. It was chaotic, there was no pattern to Capri’s strength weakening and this caused repercussions of untold magnitude.

With this weakened state, the outlaying planes began to feel the difference, the air held less of a sparkle, every breathe did not feel as energising. Even down to the simple feel of Capris love, in the form of the warmth of the sun on their skin, felt weaker, sadder. The fringes of these outlying planes began to fade: trees and flowers and every source of being began to shrivel.

Where Capris presence could not reach, it was as though the further away from the central plane the deeper the weakening of Capri was felt. This was unimaginable for those that lived upon the central planes, how could the Goddess forsake her children? Some questioned the validity of the accounts from the outlying planes, others who could not feel the big shifts in presence denied Capris weakened state all together. For those whom relied solely on the Godesses’ strength there was damage that could not be undone, to the mentality of the fae down to the very physiological presence of these entities. It seemed the fae grew weaker with Her.

However, all was not lost, in the stronger moments Capri filled everything. She tried to reconcile the imbalance of presence and love. She tried Her hardest, that in those times of weakness, to ensure that she was present, so she did not loose the faith, and the strength of her children. In making sure she was there for every creature, fae and entitiy she was remembered and in this remembrance and reverence she was able to sustain the life that she so adored. The life that she gave, and the life that was threatening to slip from Her grasp.

Although Her power was pulsing between a strong glow and at her lowest a weak radiance, Capri never disappeard from the sky. She is always there to cradle her children with Her warmth and reassure them of their troubles with Her light. Her essence was present in every grove, valley and stream.

She was everything but nothing.

Although she was never physically tangible, Capri could be felt in the intake of a breath of sweet mildew air, or in the glory of the sun warming the skin and glistening of the faes wings. Her presence never physical but could be seen in the growth and nurture of the poppies, and in the dew on every blade of grass. She was the life force of the planes. Without her there would be devastation, a reckoning of no return.