As darkness began to settle over the battlefield, the two mighty champions bound their warhorses securely once more and closed in for mortal combat, grasping each other's belts. But ill-omened destiny was spinning its thread above them; though young Sohrab possessed towering strength, the high heavens bound his might. Rostam, heavy with grim resolve, extended his leopard-like grip, seized the chest and neck of the youth, bent his back, and slammed him down onto the hard earth like a raging lion. Knowing well that the fierce youth would not stay pinned for long, Rostam swiftly drew his razor-sharp dagger and tore open Sohrab's chest.
Sohrab writhed in pain and let out a cold, agonizing sigh, severing his mind from all worldly concerns. Turning to his conqueror, he gasped: 'This doom came upon me through my own fault; destiny handed you the key to my life. You are blameless, for this crooked sky raised me up only to cast me down into the dust so swiftly. My mother gave me clear tokens of my father Rostam, and my soul marched forth only out of love for him. Know that even if you transform into a fish beneath the waves, hide in pitch darkness like the night, or ascend to the sky like a star, my father Rostam will exact vengeance upon you when he learns that dust has become his son's pillow!'
Hearing these words, Rostam felt the world turn black before his eyes and collapsed into unconsciousness. Upon reviving, he cried out in agonizing despair: 'What token do you hold of Rostam?—May his name be erased from the earth!' Sohrab answered: 'If indeed you are Rostam, you have slain me out of rash cruelty! Upon my departure, my mother bound an armlet—a token of my father—upon my arm, telling me to keep it guarded. Now undo my coat of mail and gaze upon my body.' Rostam unbuckled the iron plates, and upon beholding his own legendary jewel bound to his son's arm, he rent his garments, tore his hair, and wept tears of blood upon the dust. Sohrab urged him against self-slaughter, reminding him that what was written in the stars could never be undone.
Meanwhile, as the radiant sun sank below the horizon and Tahmatan did not return to the encampment, twenty vigilant Iranian warriors rode out to the field. Seeing two riderless horses and a cloud of dust, they feared their champion had fallen, and sped back to King Kay Kavus with the tragic news, plunging the entire host into wild chaos.