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... —son of a human woman and their father, the man Zorba had killed with his own hands at the tender age of nine. Zorba often remembered the warmth of that blood on his hands and face, an unforgivable moment that had marked him forever. He still recalled the chaotic swirl of emotions: euphoria, pleasure, horror, fear, guilt, relief, happiness, and sorrow, all tangled together.
"How is this possible?"
Zorba couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this an illusion? Some mind trick from an enem ...
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