Perry's Feather Robe and the Guardian of the Sacred Fire

A millennium after Ahura Mazda created the world, the Elamite city-state on the Persian Plateau lay nestled between the Zagros Mountains and the Karun River. At its center stood the Temple of the Sacred Fire, where the "Ever-Burning Sacred Fire" bestowed by Atar, the god of fire, blazed unceasingly. It not only illuminated the night but also dispelled the shadows of Angra Mainyu, the evil god, safeguarding the city-state’s bountiful harvests. The guardianship of the sacred fire had been passed down through the Karl family for generations. The current guardian was the young Karl, who had just taken over the sacred staff from his father, his eyes burning with the same fervent piety as the sacred fire itself.

That winter arrived unusually harshly. The cold breath of Apaosha, the demon of drought, seeped into the city-state through cracks in the mountains. Worse still, Druj, the demon of deceit and a servant of Angra Mainyu, infiltrated the city disguised as a wandering priest, misleading some villagers with lies: "The sacred fire drains the earth’s vitality. Only by extinguishing it will the harsh winter retreat." On a snowy, stormy night, while Karl patrolled the borders, the deluded villagers broke into the Temple of the Sacred Fire. In the chaos, the bronze cauldron holding the sacred fire was knocked over. Though the fire did not die out completely, it dwindled to faint embers, like a candle flickering in the wind.

When Karl returned, he beheld the temple in disarray and the terror in the villagers’ eyes, his heart freezing as if encased in ice. He knelt before the remaining embers, the turquoise at the top of his sacred staff glowing dimly. The elder priest trembled as he told him: "The sacred fire’s essence is Ahura Mazda’s goodness. Now that the embers are dying, Apaosha’s ice fields will engulf the city-state within three days. Only by finding Perry, the spirit of wealth who dwells in the deep valleys of the Lorestan Plateau, and obtaining a 'feather of wisdom' from her feather robe, can the sacred fire be rekindled. But Perry’s valley is shrouded in mist, and she never reveals herself to the greedy."

At dawn the next day, Karl set out on his journey, carrying the bronze cauldron with the last embers and a half-bag of wheat cakes. The mountain paths of the Lorestan Plateau were covered in ice and snow, each step a risk of plummeting into abysses. On the evening of the third day, he finally spotted the colorful mist winding around the valley entrance. As he wondered how to enter, a clear bird’s song echoed from the mist, and a brightly feathered bird landed on his shoulder, pecking gently at the sandalwood pendant hanging around his neck—a relic left by his mother, a sacred offering to the gods during the city-state’s rituals.

The mist parted as if swept aside by a hand. Inside the valley, ever-blooming tulips carpeted the ground, and a stream gurgled gently. By the stream sat a woman wearing a headscarf and a white veil, her back adorned with a pair of feather robes dotted with starlight—it was the spirit Perry. She held a sandalwood lamp in her hand, her voice as clear as mountain spring water: "I have seen the sincerity in your heart. Many have come here only to demand gold and gems, but you alone carry the wish to protect all living beings."

Karl bowed respectfully, recounting the city-state’s misfortunes. The embers in the bronze cauldron flickered faintly as he spoke. After listening, Perry gently plucked a golden-feathered quill from her robe: "This feather of wisdom carries the essence of nature; it can awaken the sacred fire’s true source. But remember—its real power lies not in the flame itself, but in the goodness and perseverance of human hearts." She paused, then handed him a small vial of crystal-clear liquid: "This is morning dew I condensed. If you face danger, it will dispel darkness."

Thanking Perry, Karl turned back for home. No sooner had he left the valley than he encountered Apaosha, transformed into a black horse, snorting ice mist that froze the ground beneath its hooves. Grasping his sacred staff tightly, Karl sprinkled the morning dew onto the ice mist. The dew instantly turned into steaming vapor, clearing a path. As Apaosha roared and charged, Karl suddenly remembered Perry’s words. He held up the bronze cauldron, placed the feather of wisdom on the embers, and shouted aloud: "Ahura Mazda’s goodness endures forever!"

At the moment the feather touched the embers, a golden light shot into the sky. A more intense sacred fire erupted from the bronze cauldron than ever before, flowing down Karl’s sacred staff to form a wall of fire that blocked Apaosha. The drought demon let out a shrill wail, its form melting away in the sacred fire into a wisp of black smoke scattered by the wind. When Karl returned to the city-state with the blazing sacred fire, the ice and snow were already melting, and tulip shoots were pushing through the frozen soil.

The deluded villagers knelt before the Temple of the Sacred Fire, repenting. Karl helped them up: "Druj’s lies succeeded because our piety wavered. From now on, the sacred fire must burn not only in the temple but also in every person’s heart." He inserted Perry’s feather into the temple’s dome. From then on, whenever the sacred fire blazed, the feather refracted colorful light, illuminating the entire city-state.

Years later, the name of the Elamite city-state may have faded into the mists of time, but herdsmen on the Lorestan Plateau still tell the legend. They say that on moonlit nights, if one is lucky, they might spot a brightly feathered bird flying above the valley entrance. Persian craftsmen, when making ritual vessels for the sacred fire, always carve the patterns of Perry’s feather robe—reminding people that true guardianship stems from the goodness of the heart and unwavering piety. To this day, in the villages of the Zagros Mountains, elders still tell children the story of the young man who carried the sacred cauldron and the wise words of the spirit Perry.