With the gentle grace of a creeper, she moved slowly through the shadowed alleys of the village, a young woman in the city, confined within the narrow courtyards of houses. Within those courtyards, she appeared as a mass of darkness, bending the lamps aside, yet she was also the slender line of lamp-flames peeking through a keyhole. Sometimes, she danced like the companion of a crab—a wild female spirit—while at other times, she stood in wooden silence, like a drunken ghoul or goblin. She was the host of deep sleep and death, stealing away the dense fog. Yet she could also be felt as the gentle stirring of the wind, the autumnal frost and dew. In the lakes, she was the rippling water disturbed by cranes, frogs, and small waves; in the inner chambers, she was the faces of women and men engaged in playful love. In the wilderness, she was a blazing fire, her locks of flames burning bright; in the fields, she was the stones warmed and ripened by the sprinkling of water. In the sky, she was the unseen movement of the revolving constellation of stars; in the forests, she was the trees whose flowers and fruits were scattered by the blowing wind. In chasms, she was the echoing cry of the wind swallowed by the mouth of the owl; on the outskirts of villages seized by thieves, she was the harsh wailing of villagers. In villages, the villagers were insentient; in the city, the citizens were asleep; in the forests, the winds wandered; in the nests, the birds were motionless. In caves, the groups of lions slept; in thickets, the deer breathed; in the sky, the clouds drifted; in the wilderness, silence prevailed. She was like the darkness at the center of a cloud of soot, resembling the hollow of a glass mountain; dense within a lump of mud, her flesh was blind and could be cut by a sword. Agitated by the wind of dissolution, she was restless like a mountain of soot; she was thick as the belly of a muddy mountain in the vast ocean of mire. She was rough as millions of embers, yet beautiful in the state of deep sleep; she was the fortress of ignorance and sleep, with the hue of a bee’s back. On that dreadful night, among the tribes of hunters, the king together with his minister departed from the city of sleeping citizens. The wise-hearted king, named Vikrama, entered the perilous forest with heroic conduct. In the forest, Karkati saw those two—the king and his minister—wandering steadfast in courage, seeking the realm of the vetalas. She thought, “Today I have found food to eat. These two are foolish and ignorant of the Self; their bodies are a burden to them.” For the fool lives only for destruction and suffering, both here and hereafter; he should be destroyed with effort, for there is no reason to preserve what is harmful. For the one who does not see his own Self, death is life; his rise comes through death, since it is the cause of the accumulation of evil. At the beginning of creation, the lotus-born one established the rule: the ignorant self is for violent consumption, not for one possessing the Self. Therefore, she resolved, “Today these two must be eaten by me, as they have become food; only the unfortunate neglect a faultless opportunity that has come. Let these two never become virtuous or noble; the destruction of such men does not suit my nature. Therefore, I will examine these two: if they are endowed with virtue, I will not eat them; the virtuous should never be harmed.” She reflected, “Those who desire uncontrived happiness, fame, and long life should honor the virtuous by giving them all that is desired. If I should perish along with my body, I will not enjoy what is endowed with virtue; for truly, the virtuous bring delight to the hearts even more than life itself. One should protect a virtuous person even at the cost of one’s own life; for with the medicine of association with the virtuous, even death becomes a friend. Where even I, a demoness, protect one endowed with virtue, there another too would act kindly toward him, just as pure reflection arises in the heart. Those who are endowed with noble virtues and dwell here among embodied beings are like moons upon the earth, greatly cooling through their association. Death is the rejection of virtue; life is the shelter of the virtuous; the fruit, whether heaven, liberation, or otherwise, comes from taking refuge in the virtuous during life.” Thus, she decided, “I will examine these two, with playful questioning: Are these two possessed of honor, knowledge, and poetry, O lotus-eyed ones? First, one should consider the presence or absence of virtue and the degree of fault; then, if the fault is greater than the virtue, one should impose punishment on the offender, light or severe, or in the form of a fine, according to what is appropriate.” Then that demoness, the flower of the demon clan’s forest, roared deeply, like a streak of cloud in the darkness. At the end of the sound, she uttered harsh, shrill words—like the noise that follows thunder, resembling the crack of lightning. “Hey! Hey! Moon and sun, rulers of the wild forest sky-path; worms dwelling in the dark hollows of the great illusion’s seat. Who are you two—possessors of great wisdom or poor judgment—who have come together, entering the path of my prey, experts in death for a moment? Hey! Hey! Spirit, what are you? Where does your little body stand? Show your face, let your voice be heard—who fears the buzzing of a bee? Like lions, those seeking their aim rush forward with all their strength; with equal form and sound, you try to frighten me—why? Nothing succeeds for those who delay, except self-destruction.” When “king” was spoken, she thought, “That was pleasant to hear,” and, due to her own restlessness, she roared and laughed. Then the two saw her, filling the quarters with sound, her form revealed by the flood of radiance from her laughter. With the appearance of a cloud fragment from an age, she seemed to have scraped the mountain’s edge; her garment was ablaze with flashes from the circles of lightning in her own eyes.