Following the monumental victory over the forces of Touran and the final destruction of Afrasiab, a profound melancholy fell upon the spirit of King Kay Khosrow. He withdrew from the affairs of state, seeking total solitude and renouncing the worldly crown. Seeing their sovereign turn away from the throne, the hearts of the Iranian nobles grew heavy with dread, and confusion gripped the realm. When the news reached Zal, the white-haired sage of Sistan, his chest heaved with grave concern. Drawing a cold sigh, he declared to the assembled chieftains that such a counsel lacked all wisdom and could only spring from a mind robbed of reason. He recalled how, across long centuries of serving the Kianian dynasty, no crown-bearer had ever uttered such madness unless lured astray by the whispers of a Div. Even the most sacred monarchs of old, Fereydun and Hushang, had never abandoned their divine duty.
Determined to save the King from spiritual ruin, Zal stood before Kay Khosrow and bade him hear the bitter medicine of truth. He reminded Khosrow of the dual bloodlines coursing through his veins: on his mother's side, he was the grandson of Afrasiab, steeped in dark sorcery; on his father's side, he was the heir to Kay Kavus, a monarch infamous for his unpredictable temper and fiery arrogance—a king who had once foolishly sought to conquer the heavens and count the stars. Zal recounted how he had fruitlessly warned Kavus before that ill-fated ascent, until the monarch plummeted to earth and was saved only by the boundless mercy of the Almighty.
Zal then recounted Khosrow's own gloriously victorious path: how the Almighty had blessed his cause, allowing him to lead a hundred thousand armored champions into battle, crushing Afrasiab's armies across the plains of Kharazm. Had God not aided Khosrow, Afrasiab would have put all of Iran to the sword and dragged its women and children into dark captivity. Yet now, when the land had finally attained peace, security, and the golden hour of royal bounty, Khosrow was abandoning the path of God for dark isolation.
With unyielding conviction, Zal issued a chilling warning: should Khosrow continue down this demonic path of delusion, the sacred Royal Glory (Farr) would depart from him forever. His throne would crumble, his name would be remembered only with sorrow and sin, and he would no longer be worthy of the title of King. He urged the sovereign to seek refuge in Yazdan, letting Wisdom guide his soul. As the mighty words of Dastan echoed through the royal hall, all the heroes of Iran voiced their unanimous assent, affirming that the truth must never be veiled and begging their king to stay true to the righteous path of his forefathers.