It was 3:47 AM, and the blue glow of the cracked smartphone screen illuminated Maya’s face. The Wi-Fi signal in her dorm room flickered like a dying heartbeat, but one website always worked when nothing else did: .

The green button glowed like a dare.

She wasn’t the only one listening for ghosts tonight.

With trembling fingers, she typed:

Then, Leo’s voice crackled through her phone speaker—grainy, compressed, but unmistakable.

Hands shaking, she tapped it.