With deep humility, the speaker declared, “Know me to be the servant of your son and yourself, O great-vowed one, if this task may be accomplished by action here.” He pledged himself wholly to the sage’s service, saying, “See me now, entirely devoted to your worship; should I fail, O best of sages, let the fault be mine alone.” Feeling blessed and favored to stand before his revered teacher, he confessed, “By your presence, O virtuous one, I have no fear today, for your austerity protects me.” Then, with solemn purpose, he presented a mighty illusion, saying, “Take up this power, created by my son—born of fire, without need for fuel, unconquerable even by flames.” He explained its purpose: “This will serve to subdue or restrain your own lineage; it will safeguard your allies and consume your foes.” Accepting this, the recipient responded, “So be it,” and, after bowing respectfully to the foremost sage, the lord of the Daityas—his purpose fulfilled—joyfully ascended to heaven. This formidable illusion, difficult to withstand even for the gods, had been created long ago by Aurva, son of Urva, from fire itself. Yet, when that Daitya was overthrown, the power became ineffective, for a curse had been placed upon it by its very creator—there could be no doubt about this. Desiring to check this illusion and bring happiness to the Blessed One, the speaker requested, “Let Soma, Indra, Varuna, and the Moon be given as my companions.” With these divine allies and surrounded by the Yadus, he vowed, “By your favor, I will destroy this illusion—of this, there is no doubt.” Indra, rejoicing at these words, replied, “So be it,” and, as the increaser of the gods, he summoned Soma, the cool-armed one, to the front for battle. Indra addressed Soma: “Go, Soma, and aid the wielder of the noose for the destruction of the Asuras and the victory of the gods. You are my equal in power and lord of the lords of light; those who know taste declare that all essence in the worlds is yours. Your waxing and waning are manifest, like the circle of the ocean; you set the course of day and night, joining time in the world. Your mark upon the body, resembling the moon, is made of the world’s shadow—none, not even gods and star-born beings, truly know it, O Soma. You are situated above the sun’s path and above the lights; dispelling darkness with your radiance, you illuminate the entire world. White-shining, cool-bodied, lord of the lights, you are the moon—appointed the soul of time’s union, beloved, the essence of sacrifice, imperishable. Lord of plants, source of rituals, bearer of Hara’s crest, cool-rayed, holder of nectar, restless, with a white vehicle. You are the radiance among those with radiant forms; you are Soma among those who drink Soma; gentle among all beings, destroyer of darkness, ruler of the stars. Go now with Mahasena and Varuna and their troops; pacify the demonic illusion that burns us in battle.” Soma replied, “That which you ask of me for the sake of battle, O king of gods and bestower of boons, I now send forth—coolness to draw away the demon’s illusion. Behold those burned by my coolness, wrapped in frost, their illusions and pride destroyed—those lion-like demons in the great battle.” Having spoken thus, the lord of the stars, master of waters, flooded the armies of the gods with Shiva’s waters, increasing peace among them. The icy rains released by the moon, like ropes, enveloped those fierce demons as clusters of clouds might, subduing them with chilling force.