Upon hearing the mysterious whispers of the cosmos, Iskandar departed alone, ascending the razor-sharp peak of a towering mountain without his retinue. There, upon the high crags, he beheld the archangel Israfil, holding the dread Trumpet of Doom in his hands. Towering toward the heavens, the angel sat with breath-swollen lips and moisture-filled eyes, awaiting with agonizing vigilance the supreme command of Yazdan to sound the end of days. As Israfil caught sight of Iskandar upon the peak, he released a roar that echoed like thunder across the heavens, crying: 'O thrall of greed! Strive not so relentlessly for worldly crowns and thrones, for a day shall surely come when a single fateful cry shall summon thee away. Prepare thy soul and bind fast thy luggage for departure!' Iskandar answered mournfully that such was the unrelenting path apportioned to him by Destiny, for in this shifting mortal realm he saw nothing save endless movement and the turn of fate. With tears and lamentation, the king descended the mountain, offering praises to the Almighty Giver of Good.
Setting his face toward the shrouded Land of Darkness, Iskandar marshaled his troops behind skilled guides. As the mighty army plunged into the pitch-black gloom, a supernatural voice echoed from the face of a black mountain, proclaiming: 'Whosoever takes up a stone from this mountain shall repent, and whosoever takes up none shall likewise repent!' The soldiers halted in awe, debating the enigmatic warning. Some declared that burdening oneself with stones was a senseless toil born of sin, while others urged gathering a modest handful lest they regret their omission. Others still, bound by sloth, refused to lift a single pebble. When they finally crossed beyond the region of the Water of Life and emerged from the suffocating gloom into the sunlit plain, each man searched his robes and sleeves. To their utter astonishment, the pebbles they had gathered were radiant rubies and glowing chrysolites of priceless worth! Great was the remorse of those who had gathered but a few, cursing themselves for treating gems like common thorns; but immeasurably greater was the grief of those who had gathered nothing at all. Iskandar rested his army in that plain for two full weeks before driving his victorious host onward.