- Zachariah Trench: Something's coming, the whispers growing louder: the worst winter storm in Bureau history. A retribution for my sins, our sins. This threat could destroy the Bureau, everything I've built. Destroy me. A web's spun, turning this place against me. I catch glimpses of it in the corner of my eye. It's just out of reach, elusive. It's clever. A perverse game of hide and seek. Is this part of an attack, obfuscating the facts, dimming my eyes? It's hard to tell. I need answers. I haven't heard back from Darling. I fear for my friend, my closes ally. I think we made a terrible mistake all those years ago. That thing he studies is putting us all in danger. It's my duty as Director to keep the Bureau safe. It'll be difficult. What's done can't be undone. There's no easy fix. Magical thinking is a requirement for survival. Pain and suffering are mandatory. To change things you have to break yourself. I don't know if I have the strength. I'm old and weak. I'm afraid. I can see my hands trembling. I'm losing control.
- Zachariah Trench: It took us a long time to learn how to stabilize the Control Points., the leylines, the meridians of the Oldest House. Darling found a way to soothe the beast. We discovered we must cleanse Control Points of all interference.. It's my duty as the Director, like Northmoor before me. I couldn't manage it in my own house, at my home. I'll damn well do it here. Without the Control Points, the Oldest House would swallow us alive. We'd be sealed inside an endless labyrinth, and no one would hear our screams. If an enemy ever managed to corrupt the Control Points, it'd be over fast, spreading like a cancer, leaping over the firebreaks like a crown fire. They are the weak point. Darling's right about that. He's wrong about everything else. Dangerously wrong. Suspiciously wrong. Has he been compromised?
- Zachariah Trench: Something's coming... this threat... an attack... duty as Director... keep the Bureau safe...
- Jesse Faden: Did you hear that? It's the dead man. Right after the pyramid spoke to me and it was just noise and I understood every word. And this gun's alive. You know what? I'm happy, happy to be here.
- Zachariah Trench: I can hear the Hotline ringing in my dreams, constantly ringing. Ringing so loud I can't hear the voice I'm straining to understand. Why don't I pick up? It's a secure line of communication with the Board. They would tell me what I need to know. Do I fear their answers? Would they have warned me of this threat? I didn't see it coming, the traitor in our midst, a conspiracy plotted right behind me. I can't trust anyone. I must assume all my intel has been manipulated. The Hotline is the only channel that I can trust. Bind it, control it: the rule and the ritual with Objects of Power. It can't be tampered with. The lifeline to the Astral Plane and the Board. I must seek guidance. Soon. I'll rest first. I'm so tired, always tired now. But I must reach the Hotline. I think I'm under attack, an attack of dementia, exhaustion. It's a brain cloud, making me forget. The Hotline. I must reach the Hotline.
- Zachariah Trench: The Oceanview Motel and Casino is a familiar friend to me. I stayed in countless motels like it while investigating A.W.E.'s across the country, back in my field agent days. Those roadside motels all bleed together like a dream, same and not the same, anywhere and nowhere. The Oceanview operates on dream-logic, and the light-switch cord leaks out to be found in the most unexpected places, and sometimes, successfully encouraged to appear and act as a convenient lock to keep out those not trained in dreamscape navigation. Even Bureau veterans can only find one key in the Motel, they key that opens the door marked with the inverted Black Pyramid. The rest, the many other doors, are still a mystery to us. We're all merely guests there. Even the Board. Sometimes I need to visit, just to breathe easier for a while. It beats the numb sterile apartment I spend my nights in, insulated from everything but myself. I guess that's where the whisky comes in.