The mysterious light that had enveloped Kourosh in the darkness of death suddenly threw him into an unknown world. His eyes, still blurry, felt as if they were submerged in a sea of fog. A muffled, distant sound, like a whisper from the past, echoed in his ears. His body, light and fragile, was no longer the firm form of the university professor. A strange feeling, a mixture of confusion and wonder, overcame him. An unanswered question spun in his mind: "Where is this? Has death brought me to the afterlife?" His heart beat fast, not from fear, but from a curiosity that seemed to blaze from the depths of his being.
Gradually, the darkness faded, and he found himself in a room whose walls were made of stone and wood, with the ancient scent of burnt timber and damp earth. The dim light of oil lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls, as if the images from ancient paintings he had seen in history books had come to life. The soft sound of fabric moving in a gentle breeze mingled with the quiet whispers of an unfamiliar language. Kourosh tried to move his head, but his body, small and weak, would not obey him. Suddenly, a gentle warmth enveloped him. A woman with a calm smile and eyes full of joy held him in her arms and gently patted his back. An involuntary cry rose from his throat, as if his infant body was responding to her touch.
With every tear that flowed from his eyes, his senses sharpened. A wondrous truth was revealed to him: he was no longer the middle-aged professor from the University of Tehran. He found himself in the small, fragile body of a newborn baby, as if his life had begun anew. Kourosh, still in shock from this transformation, screamed in his mind, "What is this? I... I am a newborn?" But his voice was only a faint cry that echoed in the room. The midwife continued with a gentle smile, "Do not worry, little prince. Your mother is waiting for you." She carefully carried Kourosh to another woman who was lying on a simple but elegantly adorned bed with silk fabrics. The woman's eyes, full of tears of joy and love, stared at Kourosh. With hands trembling with excitement, she pressed the infant to her chest and planted a warm kiss on his forehead. "My Kourosh, the light of my eyes," she whispered, her voice full of emotion and warmth. "Ahura Mazda has bestowed you upon me."
Kourosh, still in awe of the moment, felt the warmth of his mother's embrace. Her heartbeat, like an ancient melody, calmed his chaotic mind. In that moment, a sense of security and belonging, which he had been deprived of for years in his modern life, filled his heart. He asked in his mind, "Who is this woman? Why is she so familiar?" But his infant body, still weak, only responded with a soft cry. Another woman, who appeared to be a servant, remarked with a smile, "Princess Mandane, this boy bears a strong resemblance to you." Mandane replied with a serene smile, "My son's health is all that matters to me."
The days passed quickly, and little Kourosh grew among a family that was still unknown to him. Mandane and a man he later learned was Cambyses, the king of Anshan, cared for him with great tenderness. Every night, Mandane would sit by his cradle and, in a gentle voice, recount tales of Persian heroes and Ahura Mazda. "Kourosh, my son," she would say, "this land is full of secrets. One day, you will uncover these secrets and cast a light upon them."
After a few days, by listening to the conversations of those around him, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. The name "Kourosh," which was repeated often, connected with his memories of Achaemenid history. He realized he had been born into the body of the grandson of Astyages, the king of the Medes. His eidetic memory, which had preserved all the knowledge from his previous life, came to his aid. Images from his classes, history books, and his discussions about Cyrus the Great came to life in his mind, one by one. This discovery both amazed him and made him wonder if this reincarnation had a greater purpose.
Accepting this reality was not difficult for him. His deep passion for history, which had filled his life for years, helped him to accept this change. In his modern life, he had no family; he had never married, and his parents had been lost in his childhood. This loneliness, which had once been a heavy burden, now freed him from the emotional ties that might have made this transition difficult. He remembered how he had spent hours thinking about the history of Iran and the character of Cyrus, and now he had the opportunity to change that history. This acceptance opened a window of hope in his heart.
In the silence of his mind, he made a vow. Upon understanding his identity and accepting the reality of his reincarnation, he swore to build a thousand-year empire based on justice, tolerance, and progress. His dreams, which were once confined to books and his imagination, had now become an attainable goal. He wanted to use modern knowledge to create a system that would prevent historical collapses, like the invasion of Alexander. As his eyes stared at the stone ceiling of the room, he vowed to turn this land into a place from which future civilizations would learn. This oath was his first step on the path to becoming a Cyrus greater than the one recorded in history.