When the Sun first saw the Moon, he was fettered by her beauty. She was a pearl that glowed softly against the blackness of Night. The Moon was much maddened by the Sun's blazing warmth and great strength; she longed for him to rid her of Night, her suitor who clung to her every step. The Sun bade her to meet him so they might flee together from the world, and she conceded, but jealous Night learned their plans. As the Sun waited for his lady, Night swiftly descended upon his back and wounded him.

The Sun burned fiercely in his last hour, scorching the sky and land with many a bright color. The red clouds were streams of his blood, shed in his silent struggle - he would not bend to kiss the knee of Night. But slowly his will crumbled and he desperately drew upon the last of his strength; when he gazed into his reflection in the water beneath, he saw how ravaged his radiant beauty had become. He gave a cry of despair and sank behind the treetops, and like a felled beast he lay, forsaken in defeat. The smoldering clouds, turned black by victorious Night, settled upon the Sun as his death shroud.

Soon the Moon rose; when she saw her lover had been slain, she wept tears that held spite for the Night. They scattered across the sky along Night's flanks and pierced him with their pure light until finally he was driven off by the pain. With his leaving, the Sun was reborn and rose, seeking his enemy and his bride; but Night was so wrathful of the pain the Moon caused him that he carried her away, so that she could never see the Sun again.

Each day the Sun hunts the vast realm of sky, yearning to avenge himself and to reclaim the Moon. When she sleeps, Night creeps out from his hiding place with his captive, who shall eternally defy him with her stinging tears. 1