Assuming the guise of a yogi, he approached the king and made him his disciple, adorning him as an ornament of virtue. The king, imagining himself adorned with a thunderous diadem, went forth to the city, obedient to the yogi’s command. Swiftly, word of this reached Dantavaktra, who summoned the king for an audience. The ascetic with matted hair then spoke, “O King, my guru resides in the cremation ground.” Hearing this, the king immediately ordered the guru to be brought before him. In that very cremation ground, the yogi—who was none other than myself—established the mantra, maintaining the form of a yogi. There, a goddess with a trident at her left knee bestowed the ornament upon him. Crowned with that thunderous diadem, the king took it and returned home. Now, a question arose: “Among these four, to whom has great sin come?” Sūta narrated that upon hearing this, the king named Vikrama smiled and replied to Bhārgava, “Indeed, the sin has come to the king.” For it was the king’s son who accomplished the purpose, but it was the king who bore the responsibility. The Vetāla further explained, “A man who, seeing Rājovatī, the daughter, does not marry her—and she, out of desire, performed the gāndharva marriage—he who, without discernment, abandons a maiden without visible fault, is at fault.” Thus, prompted by the king, the Vetāla recited a verse on dharma. And so begins the narrative in the glorious Bhaviṣya Mahāpurāṇa, in the Pratisarga Parvan, within the section called the Caturyuga-khaṇḍa-aparaparvāya, in its first chapter. The excellent twice-born Vetāla, with a clear and tranquil mind, spoke these words: Once, on the banks of the sacred Yamunā, stood the auspicious city of Dharmasthala. There reigned a king, lord of virtues, who ruled his kingdom with righteousness. His wife was Suśīlā, devoted and virtuous, and his younger sister, Madhumatī, was endowed with beauty, virtue, and noble qualities. Ever concerned for his sister’s welfare, her brother traveled far and wide, seeking the best suitor for her. For the sake of learning, Sattvaśīla himself journeyed to Kāśī. There, a renowned man named Vāmana, distinguished by his appearance, virtues, and age, dwelled. Meanwhile, Madhumatī, overwhelmed by distress, neglected food, clothing, drink, and sleep. Suśīlā, the young maiden, beheld the brāhmaṇa Vāmana. Hariśarmā, in the course of ritual, encountered the brāhmaṇa Trivikrama. Satyaśīla was also in Kāśī, and Keśava, the guru’s son, was present. On the thirteenth day of the dark fortnight of Māgha, under the auspicious Bhṛgu alignment, tragedy struck: the maiden was bitten by a serpent. The brāhmaṇas then undertook every possible effort to save her. Hariśarmā performed all the rites as prescribed by the Vedic injunctions. Trivikrama, tormented by love, suffered greatly in many ways. Keśava, overwhelmed by grief, gathered the bones of his beloved. Vāmana, collecting her ashes, was consumed by the fire of separation. Elsewhere, on the banks of the Sarayu in the auspicious city called Lakṣmaṇa, Rāmaśarmā was devoted to the meditation of Śiva. His wife, Viśālākṣī, had prepared a great feast. Yet, at that very time, their child died, overcome by the force of sin. Though tormented by the fire of grief for her son, Viśālākṣī did not shed a tear.