Elara’s portraits were celebrated for their uncanny emotional depth. She never used models, preferring to paint faces that bloomed from her subconscious, guided by the sweep of a brush and the mood of the music she played. Lately, however, a chill had settled in her sun-drenched studio.It began with a man’s face, stern and angular, that emerged in shades of umber and grey. She titled it “The Magistrate.” A week later, a news segment featured a missing persons poster. The man, a respected judge named Alistair Finch, was his mirror image. Elara dismissed it as a tragic, random resemblance.Then came