In ancient times, the sages called upon Agni, the sacred fire, to protect them from sorcery and the forces of evil. They prayed with fervor, asking Agni, known as Jātavedas, to rend the skin of the sorcerer and to destroy him with his fierce and forceful flames. Agni was entreated to cut through the joints of those who practiced dark arts, to separate their limbs as the devourer of flesh consumes its prey. Wherever Agni—sharp-toothed and all-seeing—found the sorcerer, whether standing, moving, or flying through the midspace, the sages implored him to strike down the wicked one. Even when the sorcerer was discovered, they called upon Jātavedas to cleanse away his stains with a mere glance, to burn down the foremost of them, and to let the devouring powers consume what remained. The sages asked Agni to declare clearly who the sorcerer was, to seize him with blazing flame, and to obscure his vision so he could not be seen among men. With Agni’s sharp gaze, they sought protection for their sacrifices, guidance for the wise and good, and requested that his shining flames burn up fierce demons, ensuring that sorcerers could not harm him, the far-seeing one. They called upon Agni to behold the demon among the tribes, to cut off his three joints at the front, to sever his backs with force, and to uproot the sorcerer in three parts. Thrice, they wished for the sorcerer’s end, especially those who slayed the true with falsehood. They begged Jātavedas to burn such deceivers with his flame and cast them down before those who praised him. The sages asked Agni to use his vision to see the sorcerer, to break his hooves and horns, and with the light of Atharvan and divine truth, to cast down those who were unsteady and unknowing. Any curse uttered by the sorcerers, any angry words or arrows born of malice, they asked Agni to strike the sorcerers in the heart with these very weapons. With his heat, Agni was entreated to drive away the sorcerers, to banish the demon, to burn away those who lacked roots, and to shine forth against those who were insatiable. The gods were called upon to hear of the sin from afar, to return curses to their sender, to pierce the thief with words as if with arrows, and to let the sorcerer reach the end of all his paths. Those who anointed themselves with human flesh, or with horse or cattle, or who brought forth milk from cows not meant to be killed, were condemned, and Agni was asked to cut off their heads with force. The sorcerer was forbidden from consuming the yearly milk of the cow; any insatiable one who desired the sweet was to be struck at the vital spot by Agni’s flame. The sages wished that sorcerers drink the poison of cows, that evil ones be cut off from Aditi, that Savitar send them away, and that the share of the plants be victorious. From ancient times, Agni had destroyed sorcerers; demons had not overcome him in battle. He was asked to burn up flesh-eating allies and ensure that the divine weapon never missed its mark. Agni had lifted the people up from below, protected them behind and before. His ageless, sharp flames were invoked to burn the evil-minded who sought harm. From all directions—behind, before, below, above—the wise king Agni was called upon to guard with wisdom, to protect his friends from decay, immortal to mortals. Around Agni, the sages built a fortress, invoking him day by day, steadfast in brilliance, destroyer of those who broke the law. With poison, Agni was urged to strike down the law-breakers, to burn the demons with sharp flames and blazing spears. The paired sorcerers were to be burned with fierce flame, and the uninjured sage was called to awaken with their thoughts. Agni was implored to hear their call everywhere, to break the strength and courage of the demon and evil spirit with his power. Then, the immortal, light-bringing Agni, who accepts offerings and touches the sky, became beloved and invoked. For his support, the gods spread themselves throughout the world, guided by their own law and nature. The world, once hidden in darkness, was revealed by the light born in Agni. For him, the gods, earth, heaven, waters, and plants joined together in fellowship. With the gods, the sages praised Agni, immortal and great, whose radiance stretched out earth, heaven, and the atmosphere. He was the first priest, beloved by the gods, approached with clarified butter and chosen by them. Agni, the winged one, made a place for the world, established order, and knew all births. When Agni, knower of all births, stood as the head of the world with shining light, the sages praised him with thoughts, words, and hymns. He became the worthy one, lord of the two realms. At night, Agni became the head of the world, and then the sun was born, rising in the morning. These were the wonders of the worthy ones; the waters moved swiftly, knowing their purpose. Agni was visible, shining with greatness, radiant as the heavenly womb. In him, with sacred speech, the gods, protectors of offspring, offered all their oblations. With sacred speech, the gods first kindled Agni; from him, they produced the offering. He became their sacrifice, protector of offspring, known to heaven, earth, and waters. The gods created Agni, in whom all worlds offered themselves. With his flame, he illuminated earth, heaven, and all realms, shining forth in greatness. With praise, the gods in heaven created Agni, lord of the two realms, with their powers, making him threefold for the world—he cooks the herbs of all forms. When the worthy ones placed him in heaven as the solar Aditya, and the moving pair appeared, all the worlds became visible. For all worlds, the gods made Agni, universal and a sign, with their might. He stretched out the dawns, the shining waters, and dispelled darkness with his flame. The wise, worthy of sacrifice, brought forth Vaiśvānara Agni, the undying one. The ancient star, moving, approached—the mighty, splendid overseer of the mysterious. The sages spoke to Vaiśvānara, the all-encompassing, shining Agni, the sage, with hymns, recognizing his greatness and vastness, and knowing him as the god beyond. They heard two streams—of the ancestors and of the gods, and also of mortals. By these, all things moved and came together, whatever lay between father and mother. Two harmonious paths bore the moving one, born from the head and shaped by mind; he stood facing all worlds, shining as the swift messenger, not sent by others. Where the lower and higher speak, the question arose: who knows the sacrifice? The companions reached the common seat and marked the ritual—who would declare its mystery? They wondered how many fires, how many suns, how many dawns, how many waters there were. Not speaking of ancestors as hidden, they asked the wise for knowledge—whom? As long as the measure of dawns endures, not their likeness, the swift-winged Mātariśvan dwells. So long does the Brahman, the lower priest, establish the sacrificial seat, maintaining the sacred order. Thus, through Agni’s power, light, and wisdom, the world is protected and illuminated, the forces of darkness and sorcery are driven away, and the eternal order is upheld. The sages, gods, and all beings unite in reverence for Agni, the immortal, who stands at the heart of creation and sacrifice.