As time rolled on and Prince Bahram grew in the distant plains of Yemen under the care of the Arab kings, a dark melancholy seized the heart of King Yazdegerd. Obsessed with thoughts of his own mortality, the Sasanian monarch summoned mobads and star-gazers from across the realm, commanding them to read the heavens and reveal when and where the flower of his life would wither.
The astrologers scrutinized the celestial spheres and, with trembling voices, disclosed the secret decree of Fate. They foretold that when the King's fortune reached its zenith and declined, he would march in pomp and glory toward the lands of Tus, accompanied by drums and trumpets, and that his breath of life would leave him beside the miraculous waters of the Spring of Su.
Stunned by this divine mystery hidden behind the veil of God, Yazdegerd sought to outwit destiny itself. He swore a solemn and binding oath by the sacred fire of Khurad Burzin and the radiant sun that he would never set foot near the Spring of Su, neither in anger nor in joy. Yet no mortal oath can divert the course of divine justice. Within three months, the bitter harvest of his cruel tyranny came due—for when a shepherd turns predator to his own flock, all evil recoils upon his head. A violent and uncontrollable hemorrhage broke forth from the king's nose. Though royal physicians converged from every corner of the empire and applied every known balm, the bleeding persisted; for a week the medicine held it back, only for it to gush forth again like endless tears, marking the onset of royal doom.