The Face Her Fury Wore

The gods knew who to ask this time.

Shumbha and Nishumbha had done exactly what Mahishasura did before them - won boons, pushed hard, and thrown the gods out of heaven.

But the gods had been here before. They had learned the hard way that when a threat outgrows all of them together, there is one place to go.

They went to the Himalayas and sang to the Goddess in her gentlest form. Parvati. Golden-skinned, wife of Shiva, mother of the world.

And they asked her for the same thing Mahishasura's age had taught them to ask for. A strength that did not yet exist among them.

What came out of her

Parvati was bathing in the Ganga when the prayer reached her.

And something stepped out of her body.