When the Iranian host marched from radiant Balkh and arrived at the banks of the Oxus River, King Goshtasp ordered the army to encamp. The monarch stepped forth from the ranks, dismounted his warhorse, and ascended his royal seat. He then summoned the noble Jamasp, the supreme Mobad and chief advisor who held the keys to secret knowledge, whose wisdom shone as a guiding lamp for the generals and grandees of Iran.
Goshtasp addressed his sage, praising the divine wisdom bestowed upon him by the Almighty, and commanded him to consult the stars to reveal the true outcome of the impending clash with the Turanian forces. Jamasp was deeply grieved by the king's demand. With a darkened countenance, he lamented that he wished God had never granted him such foresight, for peering into the dark veil of destiny brings only sorrow. He refused to speak until Goshtasp bound himself by a solemn oath of protection.
The King swore by the Creator, and by the precious lives of his valiant brother Zarir and his brave son Esfandiyar, that no harm or royal displeasure would ever touch Jamasp for revealing the truth. Reassured by the royal covenant, the wise astrologer began his grim tale of the bloody apocalypse to come.
Jamasp described a battlefield enveloped in black smoke and churning dust, where the crashing of heavy maces would mimic the iron hammers of blacksmiths, chariot wheels would shatter, and the earth would run crimson. He foretold the heroic yet heartbreaking deaths of Iran's finest champions: Prince Ardashir would be the first to fall after felling countless enemies; Prince Shidasp would charge like a roaring lion into the Chinese ranks before destiny laid his crowned head in the dust; and Jamasp's own son, Gerami, would leap into the fray to avenge the princes. When the holy Kavian Banner slipped from Iranian hands, Gerami would grasp the violet flag of Fereydun in his teeth, fighting fiercely with sword in hand until he too achieved martyrdom.