Days after the apparent "death" of Kourosh, in Ecbatana, the magnificent capital of the Median Kingdom, the court of Astyages was at the height of its splendor and autocracy. The king, with a newfound pride from the illusion of having triumphed over fate and deceived destiny, reclined on his golden, jewel-adorned throne. He was surrounded by the grandees of Media, from imposing generals and dignified Magi to nobles and advisors. The great hall of the court, with its tall columns and walls decorated with colorful paintings of hunting and battle scenes, displayed an atmosphere of boundless power and legendary wealth. Astyages, in a magnificent silk robe and a brilliant crown on his head, was the center of attention, oblivious to the fact that his peace was a false and fragile one, like a bubble on water, on the verge of bursting.
In the midst of this outward splendor and the hidden turmoil of the court, a heavy and breathtaking silence suddenly fell upon the hall. All eyes turned towards the entrance. A messenger from Anshan, his face dusty from a long journey and his posture weary, but with a determined and fearless gaze, entered the hall. He was one of Mandane's confidants who, with great courage, had undertaken the perilous task of delivering the Median princess's letter; a letter that could change destiny. The messenger, with a deep bow before Astyages, announced in a voice that was initially trembling but then gained firmness, "O King, this is a letter from Princess Mandane, your esteemed daughter, sent from Anshan."
Astyages, with furrowed brows and a look that was a mixture of curiosity and impatience, looked at the messenger. He expected to hear a message of condolence or obedience; perhaps a complaint of distance or a request to return. But the messenger, with unprecedented courage and a tone that conveyed deep emotion, pulled out the letter written in the New Persian script from his bosom and began to read. His voice echoed in the hall, and Mandane's words, with deep sorrow and in an ancient and penetrating language, resounded in the ears of the nobles and the king himself; words that, each one, struck Astyages's heart like a hammer.
"In the name of Ahura Mazda, the Creator of existence and wisdom, who is aware of all things. From Mandane, a daughter whose heart is filled with immense sorrow from the tyranny of Astyages, King of the Medes, to her father and the sovereign of the land, and to all the nobles and peoples of Persia and Media, who are witnesses to this oppression.
My father, O King of Kings, my heart is crushed with an immense sorrow, a sorrow that arose from a tyrannical and ruthless command. What was the sin of my brilliant and faithful son, who was your own grandson, that he should suffer such a bitter fate? He who, from the day of his birth, carried the signs of the Divine Glory, came with a superior wisdom and a pure soul to be the pride of this land. He who, with every breath, planted the seeds of hope and progress, how was he to be sacrificed to your fear and ominous prophecies? Is this justice?"
"My tears have dried from weeping over this unfortunate fate, and my soul is restless from this grief. Is this the way of kingship, to be fearful even of one's own blood and to send one's own grandson to the jaws of oblivion to protect a throne? Is this justice, that an innocent child, solely for the sin of vague and incomprehensible prophecies, be snatched from his mother's arms and sent to his doom? Is this the path of Ahura Mazda?"
"Father, you who sit on the throne of rule and consider yourself the shadow of Ahura Mazda, how could you commit such unparalleled tyranny? How could you break a mother's heart in this way and set her soul on fire, and plunge the future of a nation into darkness by eliminating such a child? I, Mandane, with all my being, cry out and bring this injustice to the attention of all. May history itself be the judge between your fear and my son's purity. May Ahura Mazda himself be the judge of this oppression that was inflicted upon us and reveal the truth."
"With a broken heart and a restless soul,
Mandane, a daughter of yours and the mother of the sacrificed Kourosh."
The messenger's voice echoed in the hall, and with the end of the letter, an absolute and heavy silence dominated the space. Mandane's words, with their simplicity and depth of emotion, had landed like a hammer on the heads of those present, placing the bitter truth before their eyes. Astyages, his face flushed, his eyes shining with rage, and the veins on his neck swollen, was frozen on his throne. The court nobles, each with a different look, glanced at one another; some with sympathy, some with fear, and some with a new understanding of the depth of the king's madness. This letter was not just a message, but a declaration of a secret war; a war that had begun from a mother's heart and could shake the foundations of the Median government.