Ed slides carefully into the worn wooden chair beside his wife, his eyes immediately drawn to her face as a tightening knot of worry begins to form deep in his chest. The air in the dimly lit room feels thick and heavy, laden with the lingering fear radiating from the Lutz family seated across the table. They sit stiff and tense, haunted by memories of the Amityville house's malevolent presence—an evil that had driven them from their home in terror. Ed can see their eyes darting nervously between him, his wife, and the shadows clinging to the corners of the room.

He turns to his wife and offers a calm, reassuring smile, though inside his gut twists with unease. "Whenever you're ready, hun," he says softly, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of deep concern. He can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them all. With a subtle nod, he signals Drew, who quietly pulls the heavy curtain closed, shutting out the outside world and sealing them in this fragile bubble of darkness and anticipation.

She closes her eyes and rests her palms flat against the cold, scarred surface of the table. Ed leans in just slightly, his gaze locked on her face, searching for any sign of how she's holding up. The Lutz family mirrors the gesture, their hands trembling as they seek comfort and steadiness in this shared ritual, desperate for the seance to pass without incident. Around them, the house creaks softly, settling into the silence, while a distant drip of water echoes faintly, marking time as minutes stretch on.

Ed's worry grows with every passing second. He watches as his wife's expression slowly changes—her brows furrow, a subtle tightening around her mouth, a flicker of pain or fear crossing her face. He knows better than to break the fragile concentration required when she's slipping into a vision, but the rising distress he sees pulls at his heart relentlessly.