Take a seat

The candle is lit. Which table?

The taster is always on the house — a free four-card spread, laid and plainly named, or coins cast and their hexagram shown, or the past-lives wheel turned. Then the sittings: £7 one question at any table · £14 the Deep Reading — two questions, two tables, a written record to keep (best value) · £30 the Grand Sitting — all of it, plus your last three lives painted and every reading kept to take away. Photographs are read once and not kept; the books are named as she reads.

See a real sitting before you pay one

A four-card taster on the question "Should I take the new job?" — cards drawn by the house shuffle, reading exactly as Lilith delivers it:

What I see: Four cards, face-up: the Eight of Pentacles where you stand; the Ace of Wands helping you; the Four of Pentacles hindering; the Six of Wands coming toward you. No reversals tonight — the current runs clean.

The reading: You stand at the apprentice's bench. Waite gives the Eight of Pentacles to work itself — skill built stroke by stroke — and that's you now: competent, a little unseen, carving the same mark daily. What helps you is the Ace of Wands, and I'd call it the job itself: Waite reads it as a beginning, an enterprise with sap still in it. What hinders is the Four of Pentacles — the tight grip. Not poverty; holding. The salary you know, the desk you know, the version of you that is already mastered. The old books are gentle but plain about this card: what it keeps, it also confines. And coming toward you rides the Six of Wands — Waite's card of victory and news of it, laurels for a risk taken in the open.

Counsel: The cards describe weather, love, not orders. But this weather says the fear in the room is the grip, not the leap. If you take the road, take it as the Eight taught you — one skilled stroke at a time. The decision stays entirely, gloriously yours.

Sources named in every sitting: The Illustrated Key to the Tarot (Waite, 1916). Yours will be about your question, at this length or longer.

The shuffle is cryptographic true chance — no hand, human or otherwise, can sway it. The deck is sealed, then laid face-down for you to draw your own cards; reversals fall as chance decides. The draw and its plain names cost nothing; Lilith's full reading of them is the sitting.

Laid your own cards at home? Photograph the spread from above, in good light, and Lilith will name what she can honestly recognise and read it. This table is part of the sitting.

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Drop the photograph here, or tap to choose

From above · all cards in frame · she'll tell you if any are unreadable

Three coins, six times, bottom line first — faces shown, hexagram named. The cast is free; Lilith's reading of it is the sitting.

Threw three real coins six times? Enter each throw — tap a coin to turn it between heads and tails. Bottom line first, exactly as you threw them.

A photograph rarely shows which line was thrown first, and coin faces blur easily — Lilith will be honest about what she can and cannot see. The surer roads are the house coins, or entering your throws by hand.

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Drop the photograph here, or tap to choose

All six throws visible · heads and tails distinguishable

Open your hand flat, fingers slightly spread, palm to the camera in daylight if you can. She reads shape first, then the lines, then the mounts — and the Life line here means vitality, never length of days. That is the house's oldest rule.

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Drop your palm photograph here, or tap to choose

On a phone this opens the camera · read once, never kept

The wheel turns back three times: ten cards, drawn by true chance — a triad for each of your last three lives, and a final card for the thread that runs through all of them into this one. The draw is free and shown plainly. The telling of the three lives belongs to the Grand Sitting — and Lilith paints them honestly: the cards paint, no register of souls is consulted, and the reading lands where it matters — on the life in your hands.

Ten cards, cryptographically shuffled and sealed, then drawn by your own hand: three lives and the thread. Names and one-line meanings are free; the three lives, painted in full, are told in the Grand Sitting.

Your birth chart, computed from the actual sky over your birthplace — astronomy first, then astrology. The chart itself is free and shown plainly: Sun to Pluto in their signs and degrees, your rising sign and houses when a birth time is given. Lilith's full reading of it is the sitting. Your details are used in the moment and not stored.

No birth time? Leave it empty — she'll say honestly what can and can't be read without one. The rising sign needs both a time and a place.

The numbers behind your name, computed the old ways — Chaldean and Pythagorean both, workings shown, plus your life path, birthday number and the weekday you arrived. The numbers themselves are free. Lilith's reading of what they say — and, if the letters allow, the rare Name Oracle transposition — is the sitting. Your details are used in the moment and not stored.

Two traditions, presented honestly — where Chaldean and Pythagorean disagree, she says so rather than blending them.

The old playing-card oracle — a true-shuffled 52-card pack, read the way the fortune-tellers read them from the 1600s down to the 1900s: hearts for love and home, clubs for fortune and friends, diamonds for money and news, spades for the cautions. The draw is free and shown plainly; Lilith's full reading of it is the sitting.

A 52-card pack, sealed by cryptographic true chance, then laid face-down for you to draw your own cards — no reversals, in the old way. The cards and their names cost nothing; Lilith's reading of them is the sitting.

Tell the house your dream, and Lilith reads it the old way — image by image, from the Victorian dream-books. For insight and reflection, never a literal prophecy. What's shared here is read once and not kept.

Read from the old dream-books, symbol by symbol — insight and reflection, and she says honestly when a symbol isn't in the books.