The test began in earnest. Karthik found himself in a small, windowless room, the air thick with the cloying scent of incense. Faded, esoteric symbols, indecipherable to him, covered the plaster walls. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, plunging the space into a hushed stillness that felt oppressive.
Then, Harry's voice, clear and amplified, boomed from a hidden speaker. "Hey, Karthik, it's me. The test starts now. Remember, no reactions. Just focus on your meditation, got it?"
Karthik quickly settled into a cross-legged position on the floor mat, trying to slow his racing heart. He closed his eyes, drawing a deep, shaky breath. A moment later, a cacophony of terrifying sounds erupted around him.
"Ahhhhhh! Aaaahhh!"
High-pitched screams, gut-wrenching wails, and the chilling rattle of unseen chains filled the small room. Intellectually, Karthik knew these were just recordings, sound effects designed to scare him. But his body betrayed his mind. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, adrenaline coursing through his veins, refusing to obey his logical thoughts.
Then, a new sound cut through the fabricated horror—a deep, resonant voice, laced with despair. It was unmistakable.
"Please... help me..."
The words were an icy grip around his heart. He had heard it before. That desperate plea, from the cemetery. He knew he shouldn't, he knew it was just a trick, but his resolve shattered. In a flash of raw, overwhelming fear, he had to see. He had to confirm it was merely a speaker's trick.
He forced his eyes open.
The world tilted. Standing mere feet from him, bathed in the dim light, was the precise figure from his nightmares. The same disfigured ghost, its neck impossibly twisted, its sorrowful, glowing eyes fixed on his. It was undeniably real.
A raw, primal scream tore from Karthik's throat, born from a place beyond reason. His sanity, stretched thin, snapped. Just as his voice reached its peak, the lights in the room died, plunging him into absolute blackness. When they flickered back on a second later, the ghost was gone, leaving only the lingering stench of fear and incense.
Outside, in the observation room, Karthik's father watched, his face white with rage. He ripped open the door. "What was that, Harry?!" he roared, his voice trembling with fury. "Are you trying to drive my son insane?!"
Harry stood perfectly still, a serene yet serious expression on his face. "We deal with genuine spirits here," he stated, his voice calm amidst the father's outburst. "If he can't even handle a mere projection of his fears, a ghost I summoned and controlled, then he has no place here."
"A ghost?!" his father scoffed, disbelief warring with his terror. "As if they're real! Don't play games with me! I know you had someone in a costume in there!"
Harry simply offered a small, knowing smile. "Well, the door to this observation room was sealed shut when we entered, wasn't it? Then tell me, sir," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper as his gaze shifted past the father's shoulder, "how did that get in here?"
Karthik's father froze, every hair on his body standing on end. Slowly, fearfully, he turned. Behind him, shimmering faintly in the air, was a different entity altogether. Not the disfigured figure Karthik had described, but a churning vortex of shadow, with two pinpricks of malevolent red light for eyes.
He opened his mouth to dismiss it as another trick, but the shadow began to rise, floating effortlessly inches off the floor. At that exact moment, Harry's voice cut through the stunned silence, chanting in a strange, ancient language that resonated with an almost physical force.
Karthik's father was paralyzed by sheer terror. He could only stare as Harry's chants grew faster, more urgent. The ghostly vortex screamed, a sound of pure agony that seemed to tear at the very fabric of the room. It writhed, fighting against an invisible force, but it was powerless. Harry finished his prayer with a sharp, explosive command, and the shadow-ghost burst into ethereal flames. In mere seconds, it dissolved into nothing more than a fine pile of black ash scattered across the polished floor.
After that horrifying, undeniable display, Karthik's father couldn't utter a single word. He stood there, pale and trembling, his previous skepticism shattered. He now accepted everything Harry had said.
Harry then reactivated the microphone, his voice once more calm and steady as he spoke into Karthik's room. "Karthik, don't panic. What you saw was indeed a ghost I summoned. It was a tame one, and I only made it appear like the one you described. But if you cannot overcome your fear, even knowing it's safe, you can't survive in this line of work. Still, I'll give you one more chance."
Harry's voice took on a graver tone. "This time, I will guide you into the 'mind realm.' Nothing there is truly real, but it will feel like it is. If you're unable to tell the difference between illusion and reality, your mind could shatter. Are you ready?"
Karthik, his body still shivering, a cold sweat dampening his clothes, looked towards the speaker. Fear still gleamed in his eyes, but beneath it, a desperate, burning conviction hardened his gaze. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible but firm.