Once, a great sorrow weighed upon the heart of Lord Rudra. He spoke to his beloved wife, Uma, whose beauty was radiant: “O gentle one, I must follow the path set down before. Yet, in the sacrifices offered by the gods, I am denied my rightful share. Among all the deities, you, O blessed one, surpass them in power and virtue. You are unconquerable, unassailable, resplendent, and renowned. But because I have been excluded from my share, I am overcome with grief, and my body trembles with anguish. “Tell me, O wondrous one, what gift, penance, or austerity should I perform so that I, your lord, may today receive my due in the sacrifice, alongside Indra and the other gods?” With deep insight, Lord Rudra continued, “O wide-eyed one, I know through meditation, and all the virtuous know as well; but today, through the delusion that has overtaken you, Indra, and the other gods, all three worlds are threatened with destruction. They hail me as the lord of sacrifice; they sing the Rathantara Sāma for me; Brahmins worship me with sacred mantras, and my priests prepare my portion. Yet, you boast like an ordinary person in the assembly of women, praising yourself out of pride—there is no doubt. “O goddess of the gods, I do not praise myself as you do. But, O lovely one, for the sake of my share, I will protect you.” Having thus spoken to Uma, most dear to his soul, the blessed Lord Rudra, from the fire of his wrath, created a being from his own mouth. He commanded this being: “Go to the sacrifice. You are Maheshvara for Daksha. With my permission, swiftly destroy his ritual.” Knowing that the sacrifice of Daksha was to be destroyed by the wrath of the goddess—who, at Rudra’s command, had assumed the form of a lion for sport—Bhadrakali, the great and fearsome Maheshvari, accompanied by her fierce followers, became a witness to her own deed, united with that wrath. This being, Wrath itself, renowned as Virabhadra, made the abode of spirits his dwelling place. He is famed as the one who wipes away the goddess’s anger. Then Rudra created, from the pores of his own body, the lords of his hosts—fearsome beings born of his power and might. All these attendants of Rudra, each bearing his fierce energy, descended upon the sacrificial ground by the hundreds and thousands. A tremendous clamor arose, filling the very sky, as the hosts of Rudra assembled. The dwellers of heaven were terrified; the mountains crumbled, and the earth trembled. The winds howled violently, the realm of Varuna was disturbed, the fires would not burn, and the sun refused to shine. The planets, stars, and constellations lost their light; neither sages nor gods nor demons radiated any brilliance. In that enveloping darkness, the lords of the hosts set about burning everything in their path. Others broke and uprooted the terrible sacrificial posts. Some roared, others made strange noises, and still others darted about with the swiftness of wind and thought. The sacrificial vessels and altars were shattered and vanished like stars from the sky. Heaps of celestial food and drink, as vast as mountains, appeared—rivers of milk, ghee, sweet rice, and curds flowed. Divine streams of honeyed water ran beside sands of crystal sugar, and other delightful channels of molasses, carrying all six tastes, abounded. There were meats of every kind and all sorts of heavenly delicacies, both for licking and for sucking. With countless mouths, the hosts devoured, plundered, and scattered the food, their fury fueled by Rudra’s wrath, blazing like the fire of destruction. They devoured like mountains, terrifying all around, playing in many forms and flinging the celestial women about. Thus, surrounded by these mighty hosts, Virabhadra, empowered by Rudra’s wrath, was protected by all the gods. Near Bhadrakali, they destroyed the sacrifice with great swiftness, while others made dreadful sounds that struck terror into all beings. Some cut off the head of the sacrifice and uttered terrifying cries. Then Indra, the other gods, and Daksha the progenitor, with joined palms, pleaded, “Tell us, who are you?” Virabhadra replied, “I am neither a god nor a demon, nor have I come here to partake. Nor, O lords of the gods, have I come to watch or out of curiosity. I have come, O best of gods, for the destruction of Daksha’s sacrifice. I am known as Virabhadra, arisen from Rudra’s wrath. And Bhadrakali, famed by that name, was born from the goddess’s anger, sent by the Lord of gods, and has come to the place of sacrifice. “Seek refuge, O king of kings, in the Lord of gods, the husband of Uma; for even his attendants cannot withstand the Lord’s anger.” With the sacrificial posts torn up and scattered, and vultures greedy for flesh swooping down, the king’s sacrifice was beset by Rudra’s hosts, their howls resounding like Shiva himself. Then, the sacrifice itself, taking the form of a deer, leapt up into the sky. Perceiving this, the mighty Virabhadra seized his bow and arrow, his wrath blazing without limit. From his forehead there issued forth a terrible drop of sweat, and as soon as it touched the ground, a great fire blazed forth, like the fire at the end of time. From that fire, O best of the twice-born, a man arose.