Ambika’s severe penance bore the most fitting fruit, for it was none other than Shambhu, the great god himself, whom she obtained. This Shambhu—Shiva—is the mighty destroyer of Daksha’s sacrifice, the one who removed Daksha himself, who took away Bhaga’s eyes, who wields the trident and the formidable bow Pinaka. Again and again, salutations are offered to him, the one adorned with great serpent earrings, the beloved consort of Parvati. With hearts full of joy, Vishnu, accompanied by his elder brother, led the radiant bride to the auspicious wedding altar, aglow with the sacred fire. The very mountains stirred in excitement, and the gods, busied with worship and ritual, found themselves restless, like eager friends awaiting a maiden’s wedding. When the wedding festival was arranged by Parvati’s brother, Sunabha, she was brought near to Shankara. Even the god, together with Kushangi, gazed upon that place, so highly honored by the world. For sport, the mountain’s daughter joyfully scattered pearl necklaces, and soon, with continuous heaps of vermilion, the earth was deeply reddened in celebration. Shiva approached the southern altar, steadfast and attended by sages. Taking purifying water in his hand, he offered the shining madhuparka. The lord of the mountains, seated comfortably, looked upon the seven great sages and spoke words that affirmed his own righteousness: “May you accept this granddaughter, offered by me, even on behalf of the ancestors.” He proclaimed loudly, “O blessed one, I give her—accept this!” He added, “I am without support, dwelling on the mountain peaks; accept my daughter, O king of mountains.” As Parvati touched Shambhu, she attained supreme joy. After offering white grains of rice and husked barley, Brahma addressed the daughter of the mountain, instructing her, “With steady and equal gaze, perform the circumambulation of the fire, just as the earth, scorched by the sun’s rays, receives the rain.” Out of modesty, she softly replied to Brahma, “I have looked.” Oblations of parched grain and other sacrificial offerings were cast into the fire. Then Hara spoke: “What do you ask for? I shall give it. Release her.” He promised, “You will obtain prosperity for your own lineage, and thereafter you will attain liberation. Hear from me what prosperity for her own lineage is—listen, I will tell you. Indeed, this prosperity has been given to her, belonging to our own lineage. Mālinī, adorned with virtuous conduct, belongs to her own lineage.” Then, Shiva beheld the face of Kālī, whose radiance surpassed even that of the moon. In that moment, his semen fell upon the sand, causing him great fear. From this event, the blessed Vālakhilya sages arose—eighty-four thousand in number, these great sages are known as the Vālakhilyas. Shiva spent the night with Uma, and at dawn he rose again. Honored by the lord of the mountain, he swiftly departed for Mandara. Taking leave, and accompanied by spirits, the Eight-formed One dwelt in the midst of the great mountain Mandara. There, he summoned Viśvakarman and commanded, “Build me a cave—let it be sixty-four yojanas in measure, made of gold, with stairs of pure crystal and adorned with lapis lazuli.” The lord of the gods then performed a sacrifice marked by the rites of the householder. Thus, O sage, a great period of time passed for the three-eyed one. Then, once, for the sake of amusement, Bhava called her “Kālī.” But a harsh and repulsive word, once spoken, does not heal the wound it causes.