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"