As the mirror shifts things into view, Shiaran and anyone watching it gain a complete view of the cell block. The sights and sounds come through as clear as actually being there, and the experience is surreal, like being out of one's body while viewing.

A man is walking down the hallways as the last rays of sunlight filter through. He seems to intentionally walk on the opposite side of the hall, avoiding crossing into the light. He wears regal clothing of white and gold, with a flowing cape trailing him. Wilson Wyck follows closely behind him, a smug look on his face. Count Elm appears to be in his late thirties, possibly early fourties, though his youthful appearance and perfect skin make it hard to tell. His blond hair is somewhat shaggy and long in the back. A neatly trimmed mustache and goatee adorn his face. His eyes are lined with a dark kohl which forms short points downward from his lower lids. He too wears a look of smug satisfaction as he glides across the floor with almost elven grace. A large black bird sits on his shoulder. Its eyes glow blue like wil-o-wisps.

He stops at the door that would have contained Shiaran and Sypher and looks inside. The two prisoners disguised as the siblings sit on their cots, looking defeated. No one in the group knows how much coaching Lyle Pense gave them once the real party left, but it appears his instructions were extensive.

"My, my. So the Whiteravens do exist, in the flesh. I'd have never thought I'd see this day twice in my life, when I snuffed out your family line".

The Sypher doppleganger jumps to his feet, gritting his teeth. "What did you say?".

"Oh, that's right" he says with a careless laugh. "I suppose you'd have never known the truth, either living or dead, as to why your retched line was wiped out".

The False-Sypher steps forward, almost to the door. "How dare you insult my family's name like tha-". His protest is cut short by a choking sound as the Count reaches through the iron bars of the prison door at lightning fast speed, grabbing him by the throat. He pulls him closer, and appears to smell the side of the doppleganger's head.

"Fiery temper? And you don't smell like a Whiteraven at all.. What is this ruse".

Count Elm flings false-Sypher across the cell like a rag doll. He hits hard and slumps against the back wall.

"Wyck.." he says calmly, with an edge of poison on his voice. "Find. Me. Those. Brats. They don't leave this city alive. I don't care if you have to frame them and gut them yourself. You have 24 hours".

Wyck bows, the smug grin missing now, instead replaced by a twinge of fear. "Y-yes my lord Count. At once. And what shall I do about the charade here?".

Elm pauses for a moment to consider. "Nothing, for the time being. If they find out we're on to their little game of cat and mouse, then our plans are altered".

Elm looks into the fake siblings eyes. His own eyes glow red for a moment. "You never saw me. We never had this meeting". The fake Whiteravens parrot his words in unison.

"I never saw you. We never had this meeting"
"I never saw you. We never had this meeting"

He proceeds down the line of occupied cells, repeating the process and getting the same results.

Once done, the edge in his voice returns. "Wyck..".

"Right, lord Count" says Wyck, as he hurriedly breaks into a full on sprint down the hallway.

Once gone, Elm takes another look at the prisoners, and speaks to himself. "You will not stand in my way to the throne much longer, Whiteravens. I have every advantage over you. All the right people hunting you. And all the time in the world...".

With that, Elm calmly walks away from the scene...