They call me eccentric. They think me mad! They say she’s not real. That she’s my mother, sister, aunt, lost lover. Alas! The face that haunts my dreams. The face that will bring death! How many times have I painted her? Her portraits pepper my studio. I could fill galleries! I have seen her! I have seen her power! The hour of our doom- what’s this now? Footsteps? Who’s there? If that idiot boy of mine… You.. Foul maiden. From my dreams. No! It’s the end of days!