When word reached King Nowzar that Qaren had departed, the desperate monarch spurred his steed into the barren wilderness, hoping to evade the dark turn of his destiny. Yet Afrasiab’s scouts were swift; learning of Nowzar's flight, the Turanian prince assembled a fierce host and gave chase like a ravenous lion. As night bled into the high heat of day, the desert churned with ruthless combat. Nowzar sought frantically for an escape, but the relentless heavens offered no sanctuary. Beneath clouds of swirling dust, the Iranian king was overtaken and captured.
Along with Nowzar, twelve hundred noble lords of Iran fell into the clutches of adversity. Bound in chains, the exalted sovereign and his leaders were dragged before the triumphant Turanian lord. Such is the fickle nature of the revolving heavens: it bestows crowns and royal thrones in one hour, only to cast men into gloom and ruin in the next. It wears the mask of a friend yet strikes like a foe; though a ruler's crown may touch the dark storm clouds, his ultimate home is the quiet dust.
With Nowzar imprisoned, Afrasiab commanded his scouts to search every cave, mountain, wilderness, and waterway so that Qaren the warrior might not escape. But when he learned that Qaren had slipped away earlier to defend the royal sanctuary, bitterness swallowed Afrasiab's heart. Sleep and sustenance abandoned him as he writhed in anger at the hero’s survival. Turning to the veteran commander Viseh, Afrasiab urged him to harden his heart despite the death of his own son, warning him: 'When Qaren son of Kaveh enters the fray, even the hunting leopard falters before his terrifying swiftness! Gird your loins, gather a formidable host, and ride forth to hunt him down.'