Book 2: Epigraph
Upon the desolate fields of Mazandaran,
Before the fluttering banners of Kai Khosrow,
The evil hosts of Zahhak could not but flee
Like sheep startled by spring thunder.
His prized sword Ruknabad cleaved even iron in twain
As if forged from a shard of the sun.
His beloved steed Rakhsh was graced with invisible wings;
A celebrated mount, most suitable for a Jahangir.
As the sun in the heavens has no rival
Upon earth there is only the Shah!
That peerless hero Kai Khosrow
Who with sword in hand shall assume his divine mandate?
Anonymous, "The Chronicles of Kai Khosrow"