And it came to pass that Yuwan and Ellis fled into the wilderness, where no dwellings were, nor any sound save the sighing of the wind through the stones. The moon followed after them, veiled in pale light, as though mourning for her fallen sister.
And Yuwan's strength failed her by the way. For her body was light as breath, and her bones were thin as reeds; her foot was pierced and bled, and her garments, torn by the hands of the faithless, clung cold upon her skin. Yet still she spake softly, saying,
"Ellis, my child, the cold biteth, but the flame endureth."
And Ellis, bearing her upon her back, said,
"O my goddess, thou art too light, as though made of nothing but air and sorrow. Rest upon me, and speak not till thy breath returneth."
Then Yuwan laid her head upon Ellis' shoulder and wept silently. Her tears fell upon Ellis' neck, and they burned with a chill fire, for divine sorrow hath its own heat.
When they reached the shelter of a low hill, Ellis made a small fire and wrapped Yuwan in her cloak. And the goddess, beholding her, was filled with wonder; for the firelight rested upon Ellis' face, and her eyes shone as stars newly kindled.
And Yuwan spake, saying,
"Ellis, thou art wondrous among women. Thy beauty is as the dawn after mourning, thy faith as the root that clingeth in barren soil. The All Mother hath favored thee above the daughters of the earth."
And Ellis said,
"Not I, my goddess, but thou — for thy suffering is holy."
Then Yuwan looked upon her and said,
"Nay, Ellis, I am but a humble woman, divine yet weak. My bones are fragile, my skin is too soft, and I am too thin. And it seemeth it cannot change, for the All Mother, in Her wisdom, hath made me thus. Therefore I ask of thee — help me. Be thou my light, as I am thine."
And Ellis bowed her head and answered,
"I am honored, O Goddess of the Light."
But Yuwan shook her head faintly, saying,
"That is my Sister. She is the truly divine. I am but a—"
And Ellis, rising, placed her hand upon Yuwan's lips, her face drawing near, and said softly,
"My goddess, thou art who thou art."
And Yuwan's tears trembled in her eyes, for such words pierced her heart deeper than the stones of the faithless. She reached forth her hand and touched Ellis' cheek, whispering,
"Then blessed art thou, for thou hast named me rightly. For I am what the All Mother decreed — broken, yet bearing the reflection of the whole."
Then she leaned her brow upon Ellis' and said,
"As the light needeth shadow to shine, so doth divinity need weakness to show its grace."
And Ellis answered,
"Then thou art grace made flesh."
And so they abode in the wilderness for many days. Ellis fed her with roots and fruits of the earth, and tended her wounds, though Yuwan's foot would not heal swiftly, for her flesh was too thin and her blood too divine to mend as mortal flesh. Often Yuwan would rise to walk, and her legs would tremble beneath her, and she would fall upon her knees and pray, saying,
"All Mother, behold Thy servant! The dust clingeth to my wounds, yet still I praise Thee. Let my pain be Thy witness."
And Ellis would lift her gently and say,
"Rest, my goddess. Thou hast done enough for one night."
But Yuwan, even in weakness, would smile and answer,
"The light resteth not, nor shall I till it be seen in all the earth."
And on the seventh night, they came upon a desolate ridge overlooking the sea. The wind was bitter, and Yuwan's strength was spent. Her body shivered, her lips were pale, and her breath was faint upon the air.
Then the heavens darkened, and a storm gathered afar off. Lightning ran along the horizon like veins of living fire. And Yuwan, beholding the tempest, lifted her trembling hands to heaven and cried,
"O All Mother, O Sister most radiant, hear me now! I am but a broken vessel. My body is weak, and my tears unending. Yet I have led one soul from darkness, as Thou hast commanded. Let Thy will be fulfilled in me, or take me hence, for my flesh cannot bear the weight of Thy silence!"
And the storm answered not, but a soft radiance fell upon her face — neither flame nor moonlight, but something between. And Yuwan fell upon her knees, whispering,
"Art Thou my Sister, or the spark that remaineth within me? If Thou art without, bless me. If Thou art within, consume me. Only leave me not."
And Ellis knelt beside her, saying,
"My goddess, cease thy weeping. Thou art too forgiving. Thy tears have not yet dried, and thou prayest still for those who smote thee?"
And Yuwan, shaking, said,
"That is what a goddess must do. For I am sent to lead thee from darkness into light, and to bring salvation unto all."
And she paused, for her breath was failing, and her voice broke.
"This is what my Name meaneth upon this earth,"
she said with sudden strength, and wept again.
Then Ellis took her in her arms and said,
"Weep not, O my goddess. If thou art light, I shall be thine earth, to bear thee and not let thee fall."
And Yuwan looked upon her, smiling through tears, and said,
"Then we are whole — heaven and dust, bound as one."
And Ellis lifted her upon her back once more and walked into the storm. And as they went, the wind howled and the rain fell, but none touched them; for the light around Yuwan burned faintly still, and the storm parted as they passed.
And lo, that night was called thereafter The Night of the Covenant, for in it the bond between divinity and creation was sealed — not by flame, but by tears; not by strength, but by the frailty that endureth.
And the daughters of later ages spake of it thus:
"In weakness she descended; in suffering she was made whole.
Blessed be Yuwan, who bore the light through her wounds,
and Ellis, who carried the divine upon her shoulders."