The Oldest House hummed with its characteristic, otherworldly resonance, the ever-shifting corridors amplifying Zachariah Trench's unease. The dim light of the Archive wing felt heavier than usual as he stepped through the vaulted doorway, the air thick with the smell of aged paper and secrets.

Agent Sophia Reyes trailed behind him, her sharp eyes scanning the space with the practiced caution of a seasoned field agent.

"The Echo keeps circling back," she murmured, breaking the silence. "What do you think you'll find here?"

Trench didn't answer immediately. Instead, he approached a row of meticulously labeled file cabinets, their steel surfaces dull in the dim glow of the overhead lights. The Echo—a term now burned into his consciousness—had reared its incomprehensible form during Brimstone Ridge. Whatever it was, the answers lay hidden within the labyrinthine records of the Federal Bureau of Control.

Trench placed a hand on the nearest cabinet, his fingers brushing against the label: AWE CASE FILES: 1968–1974. The Echo was tied to something older, buried deep in the Bureau's archives and, it seemed, his own fractured memory.

"If we find out how this thing started, maybe we can stop it from happening again," he finally said, though the weariness in his tone hinted at something more personal—a desire to understand why.

Reyes crossed her arms. "And if the truth isn't what you want to hear?"

Trench shot her a glance but said nothing. Truth was a double-edged sword, and in a place like the Bureau, it often cut deeper than anyone anticipated. He opened the first cabinet drawer, the screech of metal grating against his nerves. Inside were meticulously cataloged folders, each marked with an identifier. His eyes searched for any mention of the Echo.

After several minutes of sifting through documents detailing Altered World Events—most of which he'd already studied—his frustration grew.

"There's nothing here," he muttered, slamming the drawer shut.

Reyes, flipping through a separate drawer, looked up. "Maybe the wrong year?"

Trench shook his head. His instincts told him the answer was close. He moved to another set of cabinets labeled Director's Classified Records. As he opened the drawer, a wave of anticipation coursed through him. But instead of a trove of files, the space was nearly empty. Only a single card sat within, bearing an ominous note:

"Records of this event were destroyed at the direct order of Director Northmoor."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The revelation hung in the air, heavy and bitter. Trench's jaw tightened as he read and reread the note, his pulse quickening.

Reyes stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. "Destroyed? Why?"

Trench's mind raced. Northmoor had been an enigmatic presence during his tenure as Director—respected by some, feared by many. But this… this wasn't just secrecy. This was an erasure. A deliberate effort to bury the Echo, and possibly anything—or anyone—connected to it.

"Maybe he thought it was too dangerous," Reyes offered, though her tone lacked conviction. "Some AWEs are better left… buried."

Trench's voice was low, edged with simmering anger. "Or maybe he wanted power. Northmoor's methods have always been… questionable. This doesn't help with our suspicions about him."

Reyes nodded grimly. Their concerns about Northmoor had been mounting—a pattern of decisions that veered from pragmatic to autocratic, with Trench often finding himself inexplicably on the receiving end of the man's ire. But this act of destruction felt personal.

"What now?" Reyes asked.

Trench's grip on the note tightened. He considered leaving it alone. After all, ignorance was safer. But safety wasn't why he'd joined the Bureau. And it wasn't why he'd survived as long as he had.

"We keep digging," he said firmly. "Northmoor can't erase everything."

As they left the Archives, the air in the Oldest House seemed to shift, as if the building itself was aware of their discovery. Trench glanced at Reyes, his expression hardening. Whatever lay ahead, he'd face it head-on. Because if the Echo's shadow stretched into the Bureau's past, he needed to make sure it didn't consume its future.