When a full week passed and Bizhan did not return to their encampment, Gurgin was seized with bitter remorse and mounting dread, recalling how he had wickedly plotted against his companion. He galloped back to the lush meadow where Bizhan had vanished, but the grove was eerily silent, devoid even of the calls of birds. Suddenly, from afar, he caught sight of Bizhan's warhorse—its bridle broken, its saddle overturned, standing motionless in desolate sorrow. Gurgin knew then that Bizhan had fallen into dire peril, trapped either in a dungeon or a pit by the wrath of Afrasiab. He cast his lasso over the riderless horse, turned his back on the wilderness, and rode day and night toward the realm of Iran, finding neither rest nor sleep.
When word reached King Kay Khosrow that Gurgin had returned alone, he alerted Giv to inquire after his son. Filled with agonizing foreboding, Giv ordered Bor-e Kashvad—his trusted warhorse saved for desperate hours—to be saddled with hard oak. Riding swift as the wind, Giv met Gurgin on the road. At the sight of Giv, Gurgin cast himself into the dust, tearing his cheeks and baring his head in feigned grief. He concocted a deceitful tale of a wondrous wild ass—radiant as Golgun and swift as Rakhsh—that had lured Bizhan deep into the mist-shrouded wilderness until both vanished into thin air. Upon seeing his son's mud-stained, riderless horse held in Gurgin's grip, Giv swooned from his mount, losing consciousness. Returning to his senses, Giv tore his royal robes, plucked his hair and beard, and poured dust upon his head, lamenting to the Almighty. Though his heart burned to sever Gurgin's head on the spot, Giv checked his sword, resolving to let King Kay Khosrow judge the traitor's guilt.
Giv dragged Gurgin before the high throne of Kay Khosrow. Gurgin laid the diamond-sharp tusks of the slain boars before the monarch, offering praises, but when the King sternly demanded the truth of Bizhan's fate, Gurgin stammered, his face turning pale and his tongue babbling incoherently. Discerning the stench of treachery, Kay Khosrow erupted in fury, recalling the ancient proverb of Zal that none may plot evil against the House of Goudarz without meeting doom. The King commanded the royal blacksmiths to forge heavy iron chains and lock Gurgin in a dark dungeon. He then comforted the grieving Giv, bidding him wait until the sacred dawn of Nowruz, when he would unveil the World-Revealing Cup.
When blessed Nowruz arrived, Kay Khosrow donned a holy white robe and knelt before the Almighty Jahanafarin, offering ardent prayers. He then took in hand the sacred Jam-e Giti-Namay—the magical vessel depicting all seven climes, the movements of Saturn, Mars, Venus, Sun, Mercury, and Moon, and the unraveling of all cosmic fates. Gazing deep into its luminous depths, the King scanned every land until his eyes rested upon the harsh realm of Gorgasaran. There, bound in crushing iron chains at the bottom of a pitch-black pit, lay Bizhan, weeping blood and begging for death, while a noble princess of royal blood (Manizheh) stood faithfully above the pit, ministering to his suffering. Kay Khosrow turned to Giv with a beaming face, announcing that Bizhan lived, yet warned that none save the formidable Rostam could tear such a prey from the depths of Turan. Thereupon, the King penned an urgent letter summoning the hero of Zabulistan.