Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow as he glances at the shard. Outside is a green emerald with flecks of gold, but inside of it resides a soul that is not as bright as this jewel. This soul is mournful and sad, stricken with a color that reminds him of a clouded day.

"This is a pool where you may call to those you wish to see." He says in a tone resembling irritation. "Most of those who have come here today are not in possession of a shard that houses the very soul they seek, but they still manage to see what they like."

He waves a hand at the bloodied room around them and it fades from view - all except for the chair in which the dead girl sits. As he raises his hand, she is lifted and healed in a strange light only to be sat back down in the chair. She is an illusion to be sure but one that he can converse with just as so many others have done on that day.

"Speak with her. Make your own memories."