With hands joined in reverence, the speaker acknowledged that all should be worshipped. Turning to the Lady of the Gods, he observed that her bewilderment was eternal and innate, a mystery woven into her very being. He spoke gently, saying, "Where are austerities and meditations, suited for harsh people? I am Nārāyaṇa, you are Lakṣmī; I am Brahmā, you are Sarasvatī." Their unity extended further: "You are Vāruṇī, I am the lord of serpents; you are Rohiṇī, I am the moon. You are Jāhnavī, I am the ocean; you are Meru, I am the earth. You are wisdom, I am the king of kings; you are tranquility, I am the wind. You are knowledge, I am the one to be known; you are speech, and I am meaning, O Pārvatī." He continued, "In creation, preservation, dissolution, and the granting of grace, I am the lord." Yet he recognized the goddess's power: "O goddess, with a body sustained by your own will, you are the essence of consciousness and light." He declared that even what had no remedy was now being acted upon by him. Gaurī, as if out of modesty, concealed herself within her own body. Like two meanings united by proximity, they came together. From this union, a wondrous form appeared—the combined presence of Śiva and Śivā. Half the body was adorned with the crescent moon, and half was draped in moonlight. The limbs shone with a single tawny hue, and one breast was visible. "O goddess," he said, "let there be no place for anger in you beyond this. Even so, O breast-named one, dwell here beside me." He invited all people to worship and delight in both enjoyment and liberation. He called for her, who grants success in mantras to people, to be present there, so that all diseases might be removed and misfortunes destroyed. May it greatly benefit those who possess devotion and faith, he prayed, and let it be according to the austerity of those who worship, for as long as the moon and stars endure in the worlds. From that day onward, he wished for their presence to bestow prosperity upon the worlds, and for them always to reside at the sacred Aruṇa-kshetra. He asked the goddess Aruṇā herself to remain there, filled with compassion. In this Aruṇa-kshetra, he proclaimed, all attainments are easily obtained. Thus, the daughter of the mountain king performed this act to please the Lord of Śoṇa-giri. Filled with delight at the nectar of the greatness of the Lord of Śoṇa, the speaker then turned to recount a tale. He asked, "How did Vajrāṅgada, the king of the Pāṇḍyas, cross over the Śoṇa? How did the two lords of the Vidyādharas, radiant and adorned with garlands, do so?" If the devotion to the Lord of beings was steadfast, he promised to tell the story of Vajrāṅgada and also the deeds of the knower of knowledge. Once, there was a king among the Pāṇḍyas named Vajrāṅgada. He was righteous, learned in justice, profound, generous, and patient. Devoted to the worship and service of Śiva, he was prosperous and the best among the virtuous. One day, under the pretext of hunting, he rode out on a fine horse. There, he saw a musk deer, exuding a strong fragrance. The deer, pursued by him, ran toward the Śoṇa mountain. The king, with his bow broken and exhausted from wandering, continued on. Afflicted for reasons unknown, as if tormented by an elephant, he pressed forward, drawn deeper into the mystery that awaited him.