As the radiant sun dissolved into the horizon, dark night led its shadowy legions across the heavens. A thousand valiant fortress guards returned through the narrow pass into the citadel of Kalat, locking the great gates behind them as the ominous chimes of bells echoed over the battlements. Jarireh, the grief-stricken widow of Siyavash and mother of Farud, retired to her royal couch with a heart burdened by foreboding.
In her fitful slumber, a terrifying vision seized her soul: a raging inferno erupted from the towering fortress of Kalat, its fiery tongues engulfing the whole of Sepid Kouh, reducing the castle, its attendants, and all within to ashes. Waking in terror, her spirit agonizingly distraught, she mounted the parapets and peered into the dusk. There she beheld the surrounding mountains teeming with iron-clad warriors, a forest of spears gleaming under the moonlit sky.
Tears of blood stained her cheeks as she rushed to the bedside of her noble son, Farud. "Awake, my son!" she cried. "An evil star has doomed us! The mountain is swallowed by a host of foes, and the fortress gates are hemmed in by mail and spears!"
Farud, unyielding in his courage, answered her gently: "Dear mother, why darken your spirit with sorrow? If fate has decreed the end of my time, no mortal can alter the turn of destiny. In the bloom of youth, my father was slain, and now my sun sets just as his did. He met his death at the hands of Grewi, and now Bijan charges forth to claim my life. Yet I shall never beg quarter from the Iranians! I will fight to the last breath like a fierce ram of the crags!"
With resolute honor, Farud distributed helmets and coats of mail to his troops. He placed a Roman helm upon his head, bound his waist in heavy battle armor, and grasped his mighty Kiani bow, ready to meet his tragic destiny on the heights of Kalat.