She placed her unwavering trust in me, as I bore the liṅga form at my throat. Through her steadfast worship and meditation upon me alone, she attained lordship over the Gaṇas. It is said that he, too, has long carried the Malliṅga, and thus, his attainment is born of divinity. Therefore, those who are devoted and seek liberation should not always perform this, for it does not yield the same result; rather, like a thunderbolt, it destroys. The true fruit lies in the attainment of sight, which removes all faults. It was she, O Apītakuca, who made you loving and the protector of devotees. By the name of expiation, you are called Bhavāpītakucā. Therefore, worship me—compassion embodied, the leader Apītakuca. Having bowed in reverence, she prayed, and Ambikā spoke to him: “This radiance has been revealed to you, witnessed by gods and humans alike. In this constellation known as Kṛttikā, let your radiance shine supremely. Let all beings, upon seeing it, be freed from every sin.” Then, with her companions, Ambikā circumambulated him. She fashioned a liṅga from the Aruṇa mountain, which shone with the luster of emerald. She adorned the ground all around with lotus petals and buds, as if worshipping the red mountain with the glances of her eyes. The Mothers, gratified, honored her with fragrant gifts and ornaments, and she was surrounded by celestial women bearing these offerings, together with the wives of sages. All of them, desiring union with Śiva, stood as if they were the mountain-born at the sacred wedding fire. At Śaṃbhu’s command, the gods—the lords of the celestials—gathered around her. The beloveds of the guardians of the directions joined as well, and the maiden of the mountain stood among them. She, embodying the very form of the lord of the mountains, seemed to bring coolness and comfort to all. As if revealing the virtue of her arduous penance, she stood there, she who once engaged in playful sport now united with austerity. She contemplated how to bring coolness to both herself and the lord, remaining in the water, desiring to declare her own superiority to the world. Having attained the fruits of penance, she stood there, as if to bring about its peace, as if washing the liṅga with pure water from sacred fords—for the satisfaction of the lord of the crimson mountain, whose breasts had not yet been drunk. Clouds and lightning gathered below, as if to wave chowries in her honor. She was adorned by Siddhas, Cāraṇas, Gandharvas, and Vidyādharas. The scene was shaped like the path to Aṣṭāpada, worshipped by the guardians of the eight directions, and graced by those endowed with eightfold devotion and wisdom. The place shone, resplendent with garlands and halls of gold and silver, alive with the rhythms of vīṇās, flutes, and cymbals, and the clapping of hands. There, the divine bull-bannered one, who grants equal vision, was to be worshipped by day, yet the place seemed to show both day and night at all times. Indra, the thousand-eyed king, arrived with the hosts of gods. A cool, gentle breeze blew, refreshed by the sacred waters of the celestial Ganga, sanctifying the entire scene.