When the tyrannical Mahuy heard the ruthless advice of his son, malice gripped his dark soul. He summoned the humble miller and commanded, 'Arise! Take my horsemen with thee and spill the blood of this hunted enemy!' The miller, troubled and pious, saw neither head nor tail to this wicked scheme; he departed Mahuy's court with eyes streaming tears and a heart bleeding with despair. The cruel ruler dispatched his horsemen close behind, strict in his order to strip the King of Kings of his crown, jeweled earrings, seal ring, and royal robes before any blood could spoil the precious silks.
In the deep gloom of a night in the month of Khordad, the trembling miller crept toward the weary monarch resting in the dark mill. Muttering prayers and lamentations to the heavens, he plunged a sharp dagger into Yazdegerd's flank. A single agonizing sigh tore from the king's lips as his royal head collapsed upon the dusty earth, right beside his unconsumed loaf of dry barley bread. Mahuy's ruthless riders unfastened the purple robe, the necklet, the golden shoes, and the crown, leaving the pierced, naked body of Persia's ruler to be cast into the roaring whirlpools of the stream.
When dawn broke over the horizon, a traveler caught sight of the king's body in the water and rushed to inform the nearby monastery. A mournful cry echoed among the Christian monks and senior bishops (soquba). Led by their holy elders, they hastened to the riverside, weeping bitterly over the tragic fate of Ardashir's descendant and Anushirvan's scion. The pious brothers gently pulled the noble body from the swirling waters, dried his wounds with pitch, gum, camphor, and musk, and draped his limbs in golden silk and azure brocade. In a serene garden nearby, they erected a lofty dakhmeh reaching toward the sky, enshrining the fallen emperor with sacred elegies.