Chapter 78: Shackles of the Mind

He could feel them—the women. He recognized their presence, knew they were out there somewhere, alive, unchained, free to move about the world. Especially her. The one who bore his resemblance. She was tantalizingly close, hovering at the edge of his consciousness, yet just beyond his grasp. He could almost touch her, feel her presence, but no matter how he tried, she remained elusive. Why didn’t she come to him? Why didn’t she ease his torment? The face he sought never materialized, nor the memory of a past they might have shared, only the burning certainty that she existed, out there, somewhere. He called to her, a voice steeped in desperation, pleading, raging— anything to compel her to come. He knew they were connected, possibly even family. But where was she? Why did she allow his suffering to continue, when even the faintest whisper of her mind brushing his would bring some relief from the crushing isolation? What crime had he committed to deserve this endless torment? Anger beg