” Even if it is time for me to die let me die with honor, take your revenge but let me die with a sword in my hand.” Ashwathamma closed his eyes, whispered ” Om Namah Shivaay” and pierced the sword in the neck of the warrior. The scream of the warrior echoed in the battleground as the body of the fire born lay on his bed, bleeding the blood of grief and horror. Only if he could die the death of a warrior.
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