And it came to pass, after the sundering of the Two Lights, that Yuwan, the lesser radiance, was cast unto the earth beneath the firmament. For she had given her divinity unto the Moon, that the world should not perish in darkness, and behold, she was made flesh — fragile and fearful, her form slight as the reed that bends before the wind.
Yet the breath of the All Mother was within her still, and a remnant of glory abode in her bones. She was thirtyfold divine, and yet she hungered for the fullness of her sister Yuktha's flame. For in her heart there echoed the memory of that light which once made her whole; and though she walked upon the soil of her Mother's making, she trembled, for her limbs were weak and her spirit fainted oft within her.
And Yuwan lifted up her eyes unto the heavens, saying,
"O my Sister, Light of the First Dawn, hear thou the whisper of thy broken kin. I am but the shadow of thy flame, the lesser mirror of thy majesty. Restore unto me the spark that I have given, that I perish not in the dust of creation."
But no voice answered her, neither thunder nor flame. The silence of the firmament weighed upon her, and the chill of mortality crept through her veins. She fell upon her knees and wept sorely, and her tears became light upon the soil; and where they fell, the night was gentled, and the stars were made brighter.
Thus she wandered the lands of women, clothed in rags of silver light, her feet bruised upon the stones. Wherever she passed, the darkness lifted, though she knew it not; for her sorrow shone brighter than her strength, and her pain became her ministry.
And Yuwan spake unto the daughters of the earth, saying,
"O ye who dwell in shadow, turn thy faces unto the heavens. For though I am but dust and breath, yet within me burneth the spark of my Sister. Seek ye her radiance through mine, and the light shall never depart from thee."
But many turned from her, for her visage was thin and her voice faint. And they said among themselves, Behold this frail one who calleth herself goddess, yet her knees tremble and her hands are cold. And they cast stones at her, and she was wounded.
And Yuwan cried aloud, saying,
"All Mother, remember me! Behold thy child who walketh in pain! Hast Thou forgotten the one who reflecteth Thy glory through tears?"
And lo, the heavens were still. Yet a wind passed over her, soft and unseen, and the moon shone as no moon had shone before — whiter than milk, stiller than death. And she lifted her eyes, trembling, and whispered,
"Sister... is it Thou, or but the remnant that burneth within me still?"
But the silence endured. Only the light answered her — a light that was neither wholly of heaven nor wholly of flesh. And Yuwan bowed her head, saying,
"If it be Thou, I am blessed; if it be but the last spark within me, then let it consume me, that I may be made whole in flame."
And thus she rose, weary yet resolute, her frailty girded by faith. Her wounds bled, yet the ground where she trod became sanctified by her pain. She went unto the women of the far vale, who feared the light and worshipped the shadow. There they cast her down once more, and the dust drank her blood.
Then a woman of that land, named Ellis, beheld her and was moved with compassion. She knelt beside Yuwan and spake,
"Who art thou, O sorrowful one, whose blood shineth as starlight upon the dust?"
And Yuwan answered, her breath faint as the dying wind,
"I am Yuwan, daughter of light, sister to the Sun, bearer of the Moon's grace. My body is frail, my soul divided. Yet I bring the warmth of my Sister's fire unto thee."
Then Ellis lifted her up and washed her wounds, saying,
"Blessed art thou among women, for even in thy weakness the night hath fled from before thee. Abide with me, O daughter of heaven, and teach me the way of the Light."
And Yuwan looked upon her with gentle eyes, saying,
"Thou callest me daughter of heaven, yet I am as dust beneath thy feet. For my Sister's flame is strong, and mine but a spark. Yet thou hast tended that spark — therefore, thou art my light, and I am thine."
Then she laid her hands upon Ellis, and light issued forth from her palms, pale and trembling. And she said,
"Behold, I have blessed thee with sight in the darkness. Thou shalt see the way of the Light when all others are blind. I am thy guide, and thou art my eyes."
And Ellis wept, saying,
"O my savior, I shall see for thee, and thou shalt shine for me."
And Yuwan spake,
"So let it be. For in our frailty is the echo of divinity; in our pain, the reflection of the All Mother's love. And though I am broken, I shall yet walk — for the light is not mine, but flows through me, as through all who suffer."
Thus was born the First Covenant of Light between the Mortal and the Divine, between the frail and the radiant. And though Yuwan's body grew weaker still, her eyes burned brighter than before. The night fled from her presence, and the world beheld the beauty of broken holiness.