The candlelight flickers, stretching shadows along the walls. The air is thick with anticipation, heavy with the scent of wax and something else, something older. Around the table, hands clasp tightly, knuckles white. Silence. The medium inhales deeply, eyes rolling back. Then…knock.
A gasp. A question whispered into the void. The table trembles beneath their fingertips. Another knock. Closer. Is it the dead, reaching through the veil? Or something else, just out of sight?