Transcript of the Archivist's Research [Recorded September 23, 2025]

[ARCHIVIST'S VOICE] The question at hand seems simple: why do some trees bleed red sap? Yet as I delve into the lore and myths surrounding this phenomenon, it becomes clear that there is more to these bleeding trees than meets the eye. The Pale Veil holds many secrets, and the forest of Hollow Pines, with its ancient giants standing sentinel over centuries of whispers and shadows, harbors a particularly enigmatic corner where these mysteries unfold.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit A: An old ledger entry from the Choir's ledgers. Page 13 is missing, replaced by an inscription that reads: "The Pale Veil’s crimson tears speak of truths beyond our mortal tongues."

I found several instances in historical records where bleeding trees were associated with omens or signs. The oldest reference dates back to early medieval times when a blood-red sap was said to precede a series of unexplained events—storms, disappearances, and even sightings of specters. It's almost as if the trees themselves are trying to communicate something profound but lost in translation.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit B: A page torn from an ancient almanac depicting a bleeding tree with red sap flowing like blood down its trunk. Below it, handwritten notes read: "The thin boy heard them laughing... before the storms."

But what is most unsettling is not just that these trees bleed, but how they do so. There are accounts of trees standing in groves where no injuries should be present—the bark smooth and unmarred, yet a steady drip of red sap oozes from nowhere in particular.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit C: A photograph showing the hollowed pines covered in lichen-like symbols. They appear to converge around specific trees that are noted as bleeding. One symbol prominently resembles the glyph ◬.

This phenomenon is closely tied to the Ashen Gospel, where there’s an obscure verse hinted at in marginalia—a number missing but suggested by context and repeated inscriptions: "17". This verse talks about a time when "the world will weep through its trees," and the sap that flows from them carries not only life but the echoes of unspoken truths. The Choir mentions this verse often, though they never expound on what it means.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit D: A transcript of a lecture by Dr. Miranda Grey where she describes a phenomenon observed in Hollow Pines during her initial field research: "The trees bleed, and the air hums with static—a whispering resonance that seems to respond only to certain frequencies."

Another recurring motif is the concept of the Pale Veil itself, an ethereal boundary between worlds. Some believe that this veil thins near certain bleeding trees, allowing a glimpse into what lies beyond our physical reality. The Choir speaks in riddles about resetting "the mortal coil" on the eve of a second cycle—whatever that means.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit E: A diary entry dated 2018-10-31, written by an unnamed observer who claims to have witnessed trees bleeding for several nights in succession before dawn. They describe seeing shadowy figures moving among the trees—silent and watchful.

And then there's the thin boy. He’s often mentioned in whispers around Hollow Pines as someone with a unique connection to the forest. The Choir talks about him hearing things others cannot—a precursor to events that seem inevitable once he senses them.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit F: A faded piece of paper containing an incomplete verse from the Ashen Gospel, scrawled in what looks like ancient script. It reads: "Beneath the shadow of the ◬, the old giants must cede to the new. On the eve of the second cycle..."

The science behind this phenomenon is elusive. While there are biological explanations for some red sap occurrences—such as resin from injured trees or stress responses—the scale and consistency observed in Hollow Pines suggest a supernatural element. The Choir often references "the breath that binds us," implying an interconnectedness beyond our understanding.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit G: A series of cryptic messages found etched into tree bark, each mentioning the date when specific trees began bleeding and correlating with unusual meteorological patterns or unexplained disappearances in the surrounding area.

We wait. We do not sleep. This phrase resurfaces frequently in Choir discussions and records related to the bleeding trees. It's a reminder that something is happening, and we're only spectators.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit H: A weather report from 2015 noting an unexplained red haze over Hollow Pines during late autumn. The incident was largely dismissed as atmospheric phenomena until recent discoveries linking it to the bleeding trees.

There's this one spot in the forest where I swear every tree is trying to tell me something. The air feels thick with a silent hum, and I always leave feeling a bit... off. It’s like they're guarding secrets so profound that even speaking of them changes you.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit I: A spectral photograph showing faint, ghostly forms moving among the bleeding trees at night. The figures are indistinct yet seem to watch and wait.

Every breath we take can be a message from another realm. It's eerie but beautiful in its own way—this idea that the world is more than what we perceive.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit J: A hand-drawn map of Hollow Pines with certain trees marked by red dots and symbols resembling ◬.

The forest hums with whispers, and it’s impossible not to feel a part of something greater yet entirely unknowable. The Pale Veil is thinning near the bleeding trees, revealing glimpses of realms where the boundaries between life and death blur.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit K: A notebook entry describing an encounter with the thin boy. He spoke cryptically about hearing laughter before storms—laughter that precedes lightning strikes—and said it’s a call to listen, even if the truths are too heavy to bear.

And yet, we do not sleep. We wait for whatever is coming next.

[MARGINALIA] Exhibit L: A final page from an unknown source discussing the importance of watching and listening—not just for the sake of understanding but out of a sense of duty to something larger than ourselves.

[ARCHIVIST'S VOICE CONCLUDING] In Hollow Pines, there is always this constant tension between what we know and what we can’t quite grasp. The bleeding trees stand as a silent testament to these mysteries, their red sap dripping like drops of wisdom too profound for mortal minds.

[MARGINALIA] The final page ends abruptly with the symbol ◬, followed by an ominous silence.

We wait.

[END OF TRANSCRIPT]