Darkness descended over the blood-soaked battlefield like a veil of pitch, yet the heavens remained in awe of Sohrab’s unrelenting fury. It seemed as though his warhorse were forged of solid iron and his body enveloped in brass. Deep within the Turanian encampment, his belt unbuckled and his blade sheathed, Sohrab turned to Houman, questioning why no champion among the Iranians had dared to meet him in single combat, save for that one mountain-like hero who stepped forth alone. Houman replied that King Afrasiab’s command had restricted the army from a general charge, preventing the rest of their warriors from engaging. Seeking respite from the burden of war, Sohrab called for a feast and goblets of wine to banish sorrow before the morning dawn.
Meanwhile, in the Iranian lines, Rostam summoned Gev to inquire of Sohrab's onslaught against the main host. Gev recounted how the young warrior had swept through the center, routing Tus and Gorgin, knocking helmets off legendary heads with his curved mace, leaving the Iranian ranks scattered in terror, for none possessed the stature to withstand him save Rostam himself. Sorrow weighed heavily on the elephant-bodied champion upon hearing these words, and he hastened to the royal pavilion of King Kay Kavus.
Before the sovereign of Iran, Rostam unveiled the astounding truth of Sohrab’s power. He described how the youth’s shoulders touched the stars and his thighs surpassed those of a war-elephant. Most terrifying of all, Rostam confessed that he had seized Sohrab’s belt with all his mythic strength to wrench him from his saddle as he had done to a thousand knights before, yet the young warrior had not budged so much as a grain of sand—standing immovable like a granite peak. Rostam declared that on the morrow, no weapon could avail; he must close in and wrestle him body to body, entrusting the outcome to Yazdan, the Almighty Lord of the Sun and Moon. King Kavus bent his knees in prayer, imploring the Creator to grant Rostam victory and preserve the crown of Iran.
Returning to his quarters, Rostam was met by his loyal brother Zourareh, whose heart was pierced with anxiety. Rostam partook of food to calm his mind and then laid bare his solemn last testament. He charged Zourareh to guard his royal banner, throne, and steed at dawn, instructing: 'If I am victorious, I shall return. But if fate decrees otherwise and I fall upon the dust, make no lamentation, nor engage the enemy in futile vengeance. Lead the host back to Zabulistan, to white-haired Zal and my mother Rudabeh. Tell her not to grieve for me, for death is the ultimate destination of every living soul. I have slain lions, demons, leopards, and sea-monsters, and no fortress ever stood against my mace, yet when the appointed hour strikes, no man can evade the grave.' Thus passed half the night in sacred counsel and solemn farewells, while the remaining hours surrendered to quiet sleep before the tragedy of the coming dawn.