"The mind can be fickle, but you are young and I have the utmost faith you may yet recall."

Emet-Selch turns and firmly grasps the knife in one free hand. A small conjuring of a spell catches the blade in a burst of fire, which are sure to sear skin and heat metal. With that, he slowly begins to twist the knife.

"Let us try a different subject, perhaps." The flames begin to crack. "Begin with locations of import. Strongholds, meeting places, or the like."