The Distant Promise
Act I Nikos Zafeiriou’s hands were buried to the wrist in the wet clay of the trench, the bronze razor tucked tightly into the leather roll of his sleeve, its cold weight a constant pressure against his inner arm. He was digging for water, not for gold, but the earth here in the Cypriot interior was stubborn, holding its secrets like a miser holds coins, and the clan elders watched from the...
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