June 27, 2025 • 35 mins
The threshold between who we are and who we're meant to become is never just a door—it's a reckoning. In this penultimate episode of Gentleman's Journey, we witness the Relic Hunter face his most devastating loss as Kael is taken by a masked figure alongside someone impossible: his brother, who supposedly drowned years ago.
Wandering through the winding alleys of a Moroccan medina, the Hunter's grief transforms into clarity as ancient relics begin to awaken in his presence. The key that opens nothing glows with previously invisible markings. The cracked compass finds its true north. The bell of echoed doubt rings with recognition. Together, they call him toward the Vault of Ascension—not merely a place hidden within a mountain, but a mirror that will force him to confront everything hidden within himself.
"The vault opens for one reason," we learn, "to a man willing to lose everything." As the Hunter stands at the threshold of transformation, we discover alongside him that lineage isn't limitation but invitation, that doubt isn't a stop sign but a gatekeeper, and that the true moment of becoming happens not when the door finally opens, but in that sacred space just before—when we choose to leave behind every version of ourselves that kept us small.
What truths have you been running from? What painful revelations might actually be the forge that shapes you into who you're meant to be? Join us for this soul-stirring journey as we prepare for the final episode, and remember: you create your reality.
"True mastery is found in the details. The way you handle the little things defines the way you handle everything."
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode 9.
We are almost at the end, solet's go ahead and let's just
(00:20):
get right into it.
And let's just get right intoit.
The echoing chamber of stonelight beneath the earth, where
only kings and chosen echoes mayhave tread, the air is dim, lit
only by veins of blue fire thatpulse through the obsidian
walls like a heartbeat.
Kael stands before two tiringthrones, one carved from shadow,
(00:42):
the other one buried beneathstone and time.
She's trembling, not from fear,but because she already knows
what they're about to say.
The Shadow King, you feel it,don't you?
The change in the wind, theweight in your chest.
You've always known this momentwould come.
(01:02):
The weight in your chest,you've always known this moment
would come.
Kale says quietly I, I hoped itwouldn't.
The buried king hoping againstfate is how the strongest ones
break.
You were not chosen for comfort, you were chosen for comfort,
(01:26):
you were chosen for cost.
She stares into the blue firepulsing at their feet.
In its glows, flicker of what'sto come, rise Images of the
hunter, on his knees, bloodied,lost.
Her heart clenches Kale.
So it's true.
(01:51):
The boy who drowned.
His brother is still alive.
The Shadow King?
He didn't drown, not really.
That memory was placed,implanted by the one who seeks
to turn him against himself Kale, the invisible king.
The fire dims at the mention ofhis name, as if the chamber
(02:13):
itself recoils.
Even the kings fall silent fora moment, the kind of silence
that precedes storms.
The buried king?
He will take you, twist thehunter's grief, use it like a
key to shatter his mind, andwhen that fails, he will offer
him something worse than deaththe crown.
(02:36):
Kale whispers.
He'll ask him to join ShadowKing as a king himself, not a
relic hunter, but the ruler ofthe illusion.
Kale's knees almost give herbreast shakes, but she stands.
(02:58):
Am I just supposed to let thishappen?
Buried King, you are thecatalyst.
His descent is part of his rise.
What breaks him becomes theforge.
Kale tears in her voice, angry.
Now You're asking me to let himlose me, to let him suffer, to
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let the only person who stood byhim be torn away on purpose.
Shadow King, no, we are askingyou to trust the story that was
written before you were born.
The truth is cruel, butascension always is.
(03:48):
Kale looks up at them.
Her eyes are glass, butsomething burns behind them, a
flicker of the same fire thatlives in the hunter's soul.
Kale, then, tell me one thingwhen it's all over, when he's
alone in the dark, on the edgeof giving in, will anyone be
there?
The kings exchange a long look.
(04:11):
The Shadow King.
He'll hear your voice Even ifyou're gone, even if you're
somewhere nowhere near him, andthat will be enough.
The blue fire erupts for amoment, visions swirling faster,
the relics, the fall, thebetrayal, the drowning boy and
(04:33):
Kale, chained in light, watchinghim walk away.
She nods once, turns, walksinto the shadows, towards her
own undoing Toward, the part ofthe story no one wants to play.
The kings remain, and thoughneither speaks, the tension in
the air thickens Like war drumssounding beneath the world.
(04:55):
The Bearded King, quietly tothe shadows.
Let it begin.
It began with a storm, but not athunder or rain of silence,
thick electric silence thatclung to the skin.
The ruins of the city, whatonce was a glittering
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technological marvel, nestledbetween mountains, now lay
fractured, its glass towersshattered like falling monoliths
of a forgotten ambition.
They stood at the edge of thebroken sky ridge.
The hunter, kael, the two kings, the shadowed and buried,
hovered silently in the distance, watching without presence,
seen only by those who had begunto awaken.
(05:41):
Below them, whispers moved likecurrents through the fog.
Then it happened From the miststepped a figure dressed in
chrism and robes, face obscuredby a smooth metallic mask etched
with fragments of forgottenlanguages.
But it wasn't the mask thatstruck the hunter, it was the
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presence, a pull in his chestlike deja vu wrapped in grief.
Kel's breath hitched.
She stepped backwards.
What is this?
The hunter whispered.
The figure didn't speak, butbehind him came another younger
familiar.
The hunter staggered.
The wind howled, matching hispulse.
No, he muttered.
(06:23):
It was his brother, but notdrowned, not lost, alive and
empty.
His eyes were devoid of light,movements, precise, controlled,
not his own.
Kale stepped in front of thehunter, shielding him with her
body.
Stay back, she snapped, voicecracking with something deeper
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than fear Certainty.
The invisible king's presencedraped over them like a cloak.
He didn't show himself, not yet, but his will was everywhere
and the weight pressing againsttheir ribs and the sorrow
unspoken.
The masked figure extended hishand towards Kale and she went.
Still.
Her eyes met the hunter's, notwith panic, with resolve.
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They warned me, she whispered.
The kings told me that this ishow it must happen.
No, the hunter's voice wascoarse.
No, no, we could fight.
They say.
If I stay, you would never rise.
Tears fell, but her smile wassoft.
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I chose this.
The brother moved forward like aghost, tethered to command.
The masked figure gently tookKael's wrist.
She didn't fight.
The hunter lunged, butsomething invisible slammed him
to the ground.
The weight of every falsememory, every lie the invisible
king had ever planted.
He watched helpless as theyvanished into the mist and the
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storm broke.
Shadow and Beard King kneltbeside him.
It has begun, said the BeardKing.
He must face it all now, out ofBuried King.
He must face it all now Out ofthe shadow King.
Only then will the relicrespond.
The hunter wept, not becauseshe was gone, because part of
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him had always known she wouldbe, and still he had hoped.
The hunter stumbled through thealley, unsure whether it was
sweat or tears stinging his eyes.
The air was thick with spices,cumin, saffron and dust, and the
sour tang of diesel.
Somewhere in the city, a prayercalled, echoed from a miner
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floating across the rooftopslike silk veil in the wind.
The medina was alive merchantsshouting in Arabic, children
chasing each other between thestone stalls, the top of an old
shoe, over centuries worncobblestone.
But to him everything felt dead.
Kel was gone, taken in front ofhim, at worst, by a man wearing
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a mask.
He couldn't stop recognizing,his lungs fought for breath like
he'd just surfaced fromdrowning.
The irony wasn't lost on himHis brother, the one whose death
he'd carried like a bone in histhroat since childhood.
The invisible king's greatestlie, now walking.
The kings hadn't spoken to himsince, not aloud, but they were
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here.
He could feel them watchingfrom the silence, between his
thoughts, watching what he'd donext.
He turned down a quieter pathnear a dried-up fountain, away
from the noise of the mainsquare.
The stones beneath him were old, worn smooth by centuries of
footsteps.
He stopped nearing a crumblingarchway covered in ancient
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mosaic tiles, faded blues andgreens spelling verses long
forgotten.
That's when the first memoryhit his father's voice You've
come from a long line of cowardspretending to be hunters.
They chase relics like theychased meaning.
You want to be different.
Find something that can't belost.
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Those words hit like a blow tohis chest.
He leaned against the wall,sliding down until he crouched
low in the shadow.
His head dropped into his hands.
What was even real anymore.
Was Kale ever real?
Was the mission, was he?
Another memory surfacedChristmas morning his father,
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half drunk but lucid, handinghim an old compass your
grandfather used this in thecatacombs.
Didn't help him see whatmattered, though.
What mattered You'll know ifyou love long enough.
His knuckles clenched All thoseyears.
He thought he was escaping.
The legacy now was circling himlike a noose.
Something cracked in the bricksabove him.
(11:04):
A bird launched out a desertcasserole, its wings scattering
dust into the golden light as itvanished.
A voice finally came, not in hisears, in his soul.
You're not the first to feelthis lost.
It was the Shadow King, softpresent, and you're not the
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first to make the mistake.
Pain for truth, then the BuriedKing.
He wants you fractured boy.
Every lie he feeds you is tokeep you from looking inward.
Your father, your brother, theyare pieces of you, not prisons.
Thunder lifted his head aroundhim.
The wind swirled, a single pageof parchments scattered across
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the stone, skipping and thenstopping at his boot.
It was blank.
No, something began to etchitself across the page, a relic
Signature.
The next location.
He blinked.
His chest rose For the firsttime in what felt like years.
(12:14):
He inhaled.
Cal was gone, but the hunt wasnot, and now it was personal.
He collapsed to his knees in theempty alleyway, the scent of
dust and salt in the airsomewhere in Assyria, though he
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wasn't sure anymore.
His vision swam with heat andhallucination.
The echo of Kael's scream stillhaunted the walls.
It hadn't been the invisibleking who took her, not directly,
but the figure beside him, aman in a mask, tall and
deliberate, his grip tied aroundher wrist, huntress, just still
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ached from the memory.
That wouldn't leave him.
He kept hearing her voice Run.
It wasn't a cry, it wasn't acommand, it was a plea, and he
failed her.
He leaned against the wall asthe adrenaline crashed.
For the first time since thisbegan, he wasn't sure if he
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could keep going, not because ofthe danger He'd grown used to
that Because something insidehim had fractured, something he
hadn't known was holding himtogether.
He looked down at his palmsthere's blood, but not hers, his
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own, for as fingernails hadclawed into his skin.
He had felt powerless before,but this, this was something
different.
The ground blurried, the worldtilted, he felt sideways into
the dust.
And then, through the veil ofunconsciousness, came a voice,
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familiar, feminine, soft.
Wake up.
He opened his eyes, kael wasthere, kneeling beside him.
She wasn't real, he knew that,but her presence felt more real
than anything else had in days.
She pressed her fingers intohis temple and behind her stood
the Shadow King and the BerryKing.
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Get up.
The Shadow King said you don'thave time to mourn her.
The Berry King added you werenever meant to stop here.
This is where you begin to see.
He groaned, sitting up theedges of his vision, still
trembling.
Is she gone?
For now?
Kael whispered, but not lost,and the man with her, the Shadow
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King, stepped forward.
Your brother.
The hunter blinked no, mybrother's dead.
You think he's dead.
The bear king's voice echoedlike gravel over memory.
Or is that what you were madeto believe?
He shook his head violently.
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I saw him drown.
No, you saw what the invisibleking placed in your mind.
The hunter's breath caught what.
Your brother is alive, but he'snot the boy you remember.
The Invisible King has himtwisted, made him a weapon, and
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now he's coming for you.
Silence, it fell over him like atide.
His heart began to race, butnot from fear, from clarity,
from the memories.
All this time he doubtedhimself, questioned his visions,
the dreams, the factured truthsand now it was beginning to
make sense.
You must walk now, shadow Kingsaid, pointing towards the
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narrow corridor between thecrumbling buildings to the next
gate.
As he stumbled to his feet, theBear King stepped beside him.
You must carry the weight ofyour father's silence, of a
lineage of relic hunters whonever stepped into what they
truly were that ends with you.
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The wind shifted For a moment.
He felt his father's voice, amemory from childhood, sitting
on the rooftop, his fatherbeside him, talking not of
relics but of regret.
I gave up chasing what I lovedto become, what I thought I
should be.
His father had said Don't makethe same mistake.
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He hadn't understood it then,but he did now.
He had understood it then, buthe did now.
And so, with his knees shakingand his mind burning, the hunter
took his first step towards thereckoning.
The king, who had no face,would be waiting, but he no
longer walked alone.
This was bloodline, this wasmemory, this was legacy reborn
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in fire.
The medina was burning in gold,not literally, but in the way
the late sun struck thesandstone, in the way shadows
slid like memories across theground, in the way every alley
turned just before you couldremember the direction.
He didn't know how long he'dbeen walking, hours, days.
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His mind had no foothold anymore, not since Kale was taken.
Every corner turn held aphantom the glint of her hair,
braided, the echo of her voice,the way she used to hum, without
knowing.
But it was all dust now, justechoes and heat.
And that's when the key beganto hum.
But it was all dust, now justechoes and heat.
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And that's when the key beganto hum.
At first he thought it was hisheart, a tight thrumming in his
chest, but no, it was deeper.
Lower In his coat pocket, thekey began to glow faintly.
When he pulled it out, itshimmered with a pulse.
Faint markings, previouslyinvisible, now shimmered across
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its stem, ruins carved in a waythat felt familiar.
He turned the key over and ashe did, the relics in his
satchel responded.
The cracked compass began tospin slowly.
The bell of Elkodout gave thefaintest chime, though he hadn't
touched it.
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The flame that remembers grewwarm and the clock with no time,
silent for so long it let out asingle tick.
He froze.
The moment it did, somethingshifted around him.
The shadows reversed direction,the voices of the market
stuttered, then bent, as ifsound itself had to catch up.
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A fruit vendor, aged andde-aged, in front of him in the
span of a blink.
Then came the visions.
In the glass of the stall'sbroken mirror.
He saw himself, but it wasn'thim, not now.
In one reflection he sawhimself as a merchant, another
as a beggar and one, keldon,exist.
His heart twisted More ticks.
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The relic pulsed in time withthe clock.
It was as if they had beenwaiting not for him to find them
, but to find each other.
His knees buckled and hestumbled into the alley.
The key grew hot in his palm.
And then, don't let go, a voice, her voice, kale.
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He whipped around, no one.
But it wasn't just a memory, itwas a projection, a tether.
The key grew even hotter.
Another voice came, older,slower the Buried King.
She left the map inside of you.
The vault doesn't open with akey, it opens with memory.
Then the Shadow King quietedher, but firmer.
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And memory only awakens whenyou stop running from it.
He shut his eyes.
The heat, the clock, thepressure of it all was too much.
But something shifted inside ofhim.
He saw his father at theworkbench carving, telling
stories about the first relichunter, about a vault beneath
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the world, about a key thatdidn't fit any lock because it
wasn't meant to.
It's not to open the door, hisfather said in the vision, it's
to open you.
His eyes snapped open and forthe first time he understood.
The relics weren't his tools,they were his trials and the key
it was himself.
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All of it, his father's death,kale's abduction, the brother
who never drowned.
It had all been a part of asystem, a forge.
Pain wasn't the price, it wasthe process.
He gripped the relics tightly.
The clock ticked again.
Then it whispered a name, alocation the Vault of Ascension.
He stood slowly.
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The market was frozen in time.
Now a boy, immense step, a birdwith wings, unmoving.
And in that stillness he heardevery relic hum together,
forming a single note, a call.
The Vault was waking and so washe.
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The sky cracked like fracturedglass above the Moroccan cliffs,
wind clawing at the jagged rockfaces.
As the hunter stood at the cuspof something ancient, something
that had waited too long to beremembered, in a satchel, the
relics began to stir.
It started as a faint vibration, then a resonance.
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Each one flame, bell, mirror,stone hummed in sequence like an
orchestra remembering its song.
And then the key that opensnothing glowed Its surface,
fractured, not broken, but alive.
Glowing etchings appearedacross it, clawing like veins of
silver lightning as it pulsed.
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Those same etchings spreadacross the other relics.
He dropped to one knee,overwhelmed Memory slammed into
him His father's voice you wereborn of dust and decision.
Boy, our line was never cursed.
We were just afraid to claimthe power waiting in our blood.
The memory wasn't gentle.
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It was a flood, his father'ssilhouette in a storm.
A door the boy was told neverto open.
The sauna vault ceiling shutwhen he was five.
Then something new A stonecircle, twelve figures standing,
a relic in each hand.
The kings.
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You carry what they could not.
A voice echoed you passed whatthey feared.
The cracked compass spun wildlyin his pocket.
He pulled it out and it stoppedonly when he looked up at the
jagged archway of the stonebefore him, etched with the same
symbols as the key.
As he stepped forward,everything blurred, the world
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twisted, his eyes rolled backand he fell.
When he opened them again, hewasn't in Morocco.
He was in a vast circularchamber made of firelight and
bone.
Shadows of ancient men stoodbefore him, each wearing the
mark of the relic hunters.
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One stepped forward his ownface aged, worn eyes, tired.
I am what you could have becomehad you chosen safely.
Another stepped out, covered inchains of gold.
I am what you promised.
If you bowed to the invisibleking, then a third silent crown
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of ash.
I am what you are becoming.
The three moved aside.
The shadow king stood at theedge of the circle, arms crossed
.
The sun had begun to set overthe crimson, stained cliffs of
the Atlas Mountains, castinglong shadows that danced like
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ghosts over the sand-carvedridges.
The wind moved in slow spirals,now almost reverent.
The air around the Vault ofAscension shimmered faintly, as
if the very fabric of realitywas growing thin here.
The Understood on the precipice,his boots pressing to the
ancient path carved into therock by hands, long forgotten.
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Path carved into the rock byhands, long forgotten.
The entrance of the vaultwasn't a door, it was an opening
, and the mountain itself shapedlike a jagged mouth waiting to
swallow him whole.
Behind him, the desertstretched out like an old memory
, raw, distant, impossible toreturn.
He turned the crack compassover in his hand.
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It no longer sprung.
It pointed steadily now towardthe void ahead.
His fingers trembled as hereached for the chain around his
neck, the key, the one.
He had opened nothing for solong.
It had begun to hum faintly,vibrating with the sound he
(25:25):
could now feel in his bones morethan he could hear.
It surfaced on pulse with faintmarkings, sigils that hadn't
been there before.
As he held it out, the otherrelics had carried, begun to
simmer with a similar energy.
The clock, with no hands, beganto emit a soft ticking.
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The flame that remembers warmedhis chest.
It was pack.
The bell of echoed doubt gavehim a subtle ring, not of fear,
but of recognition.
Something was awakening oraligning.
He took a breath.
Then he heard her voice You'realmost there, kale.
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He spun around, but no one wasthere, not in the physical sense
.
Her voice echoed inside him.
Then, behind the words of herown, came another voice, older,
wiser.
You must understand somethingbefore you go any further.
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Relic hunter, the vault is not aplace, it's a mirror.
Everything that has been hiddenwithin you, within the lineage,
will demand to be seen, and itdoes not blink.
Another voice, joint, smoothlace with shadow.
You will not face what you fear, said the shadow king.
You will face what you'veforgotten, and that is always
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worse.
The hunter fell to one knee,gripping his head.
Visions flooded him, his fatherstanding over a half-packed
suitcase you were born for more,but you keep crawling back to
small.
His brother, laughing, drowning, crying, standing alive in the
firelight.
I didn't die, brother, I wastaken.
His mother's silence in thekitchen, his wife ring left on
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the nightstand, his own facereflected in the mirror of names
blurred, unfinished.
Hunter shouted rage, pain,denial.
But it echoed off the rockswith no reply.
And then Kale's voice, soft,kind.
You are the last of them.
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The last relic Hunter, heremembered now his father had
been one, so had his grandfather.
The last relic hunter, heremembered now.
His father had been one, so hadhis grandfather.
But they abandoned the path whenit was asking for too much.
They had hidden, disguised itas wisdom, settled for survival.
He now stood where none of themhad ever dared.
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Do you see why we chose her,the Buried King asked.
The Hunter nodded she's theonly one who could break you and
still believe in you.
Tears fell freely.
Now I don't want to lose her,he said aloud.
You already did.
The Shadow King said gently.
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The question is will you becomethe man who's worthy of getting
her back?
The vault cracked, thunderrumbled in a cloudless sky and
then, from behind him.
He felt it, a tremor in thesand, a presence.
He turned there, far across thedunes, to the silhouette of a
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man, unmoving, watching theinvisible king, but now not
fully invisible, a shimmer of anoutline Distortion in the air,
and beside him, kael, still heldin suspended state, glowing
faintly in the twilight.
The hunter stepped forward.
The king stopped him.
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You cannot reach her yet, saidthe buried king.
You must enter the vault first.
You're not ready, said theshadow king, not yet, but you
will be.
The hunter lowered his head, theweight of ten relics, ten
truths, ten wounds, draggingevery part of him down.
But somewhere he stood, placedhis hand on the edge of the
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vault's mouth, as ice, cold andalive, as the sky darkened, the
mouth of the mountain groanedand before him an ancient
staircase began to unfold fromthe rock itself.
The threshold had been revealed, but it was not the beginning.
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It was the end of every versionof him that came before he
turned one last time, lookingtowards kale, wherever she was,
his lips moved I'm coming foryou.
And then, with the crackcompass still warm in his hand
and the hum of the relicspulsing like heartbeat, he
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stepped into the mountain, intothe final truth into himself,
into himself.
Oh man, man, oh man, oh man.
You know, you think the hardestpart is the climb right, the
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journey, the pain, the monstersyou had to outrun to get here.
But it's not.
The hardest part is the door,because the door never guards a
place.
It guards a truth.
And truth doesn't ask you whoyou were Right.
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It asks if you're willing todie to become who you could be.
See, the vault isn't someancient structure buried in a
mountain right.
It's the final reflection, it'sthe final reckoning.
The mirror doesn't care aboutyour excuses, your pride or your
past.
It only cares if you're readyto leave behind, really, every
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mask, every version, every falsehistory that kept you small.
We're all standing on the edgeof it now, with a relic hunter.
He hasn't touched the door, hehasn't whispered the words, but
you can feel it pulsing.
You can feel it pulsing in hisheart and in his soul, in his
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breath, behind his eyes.
It's that feeling that lives,but it also could have died in
you.
Think about it.
Kale is gone.
She was taken by a face he usedto love.
And the kings?
They've gone silent, they'rejust watching.
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Now they're waiting and hedoesn't know what's real anymore
.
His father's voice echoes louderwith every step.
He's asking himself was hemeant for this?
Was any of this his?
Was it just a memory he justmistook for a destiny?
He can't tell.
But we do know this that thevault opens for one reason To a
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man willing to lose everything.
That isn't true.
So, as he stands there on theedge of his story and breathes
one last time as the man that hewas, because the next breath he
takes, it will be different.
It will not be the breath of aseeker, it will not be the
breath of a son, but the breathof something more.
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And that's what the vault iswaiting for.
So let's, let's, let's do this.
Let's, let's do this, let's doour reflections.
Reflection one the true test iswaiting Right now.
You're not in the past or thefuture.
(33:17):
You're standing on the edge ofsomething massive.
On to the weight of it.
Don't rush it, okay.
Number two what you bring withyou matters.
You can't ascend by clinging onto things that were meant for
smaller versions of you.
(33:38):
Right, start making the list.
What needs to be left at thegate?
Okay, number three doubt is agatekeeper, not a stop sign.
The presence of fear doesn'tmean you're off path.
It means you're on the edge ofa breakthrough.
Don't turn around now.
Number four lineage is aninvitation, not a limitation.
(34:06):
See, the hunter's bloodlinefailed to reach their peak, but
it doesn't bind him right.
Just like your path doesn'tdecide your future, you do.
And number five this is themoment you become, not when the
door opens, but right before itdoes.
This is where the identity isburned and the purpose is chosen
(34:28):
.
Feel that.
Let it brand you.
So, guys, I don't really haveanything else to say because I'm
going to go record number 10right now.
I am, so I just want to thankyou so much for listening today.
Thank you for all your guys'support.
I just, from the bottom of myheart, thank you so much.
(34:50):
I'm going to go record number10 so I can go release that here
as soon as possible.
Okay, thank you, guys foreverything.
And remember this you createyour reality.
Take care.
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast.
My name is Anthony, your host,and today we are in episode 9.
We are almost at the end, solet's go ahead and let's just
(00:20):
get right into it.
And let's just get right intoit.
The echoing chamber of stonelight beneath the earth, where
only kings and chosen echoes mayhave tread, the air is dim, lit
only by veins of blue fire thatpulse through the obsidian
walls like a heartbeat.
Kael stands before two tiringthrones, one carved from shadow,
(00:42):
the other one buried beneathstone and time.
She's trembling, not from fear,but because she already knows
what they're about to say.
The Shadow King, you feel it,don't you?
The change in the wind, theweight in your chest.
You've always known this momentwould come.
(01:02):
The weight in your chest,you've always known this moment
would come.
Kale says quietly I, I hoped itwouldn't.
The buried king hoping againstfate is how the strongest ones
break.
You were not chosen for comfort, you were chosen for comfort,
(01:26):
you were chosen for cost.
She stares into the blue firepulsing at their feet.
In its glows, flicker of what'sto come, rise Images of the
hunter, on his knees, bloodied,lost.
Her heart clenches Kale.
So it's true.
(01:51):
The boy who drowned.
His brother is still alive.
The Shadow King?
He didn't drown, not really.
That memory was placed,implanted by the one who seeks
to turn him against himself Kale, the invisible king.
The fire dims at the mention ofhis name, as if the chamber
(02:13):
itself recoils.
Even the kings fall silent fora moment, the kind of silence
that precedes storms.
The buried king?
He will take you, twist thehunter's grief, use it like a
key to shatter his mind, andwhen that fails, he will offer
him something worse than deaththe crown.
(02:36):
Kale whispers.
He'll ask him to join ShadowKing as a king himself, not a
relic hunter, but the ruler ofthe illusion.
Kale's knees almost give herbreast shakes, but she stands.
(02:58):
Am I just supposed to let thishappen?
Buried King, you are thecatalyst.
His descent is part of his rise.
What breaks him becomes theforge.
Kale tears in her voice, angry.
Now You're asking me to let himlose me, to let him suffer, to
(03:27):
let the only person who stood byhim be torn away on purpose.
Shadow King, no, we are askingyou to trust the story that was
written before you were born.
The truth is cruel, butascension always is.
(03:48):
Kale looks up at them.
Her eyes are glass, butsomething burns behind them, a
flicker of the same fire thatlives in the hunter's soul.
Kale, then, tell me one thingwhen it's all over, when he's
alone in the dark, on the edgeof giving in, will anyone be
there?
The kings exchange a long look.
(04:11):
The Shadow King.
He'll hear your voice Even ifyou're gone, even if you're
somewhere nowhere near him, andthat will be enough.
The blue fire erupts for amoment, visions swirling faster,
the relics, the fall, thebetrayal, the drowning boy and
(04:33):
Kale, chained in light, watchinghim walk away.
She nods once, turns, walksinto the shadows, towards her
own undoing Toward, the part ofthe story no one wants to play.
The kings remain, and thoughneither speaks, the tension in
the air thickens Like war drumssounding beneath the world.
(04:55):
The Bearded King, quietly tothe shadows.
Let it begin.
It began with a storm, but not athunder or rain of silence,
thick electric silence thatclung to the skin.
The ruins of the city, whatonce was a glittering
(05:19):
technological marvel, nestledbetween mountains, now lay
fractured, its glass towersshattered like falling monoliths
of a forgotten ambition.
They stood at the edge of thebroken sky ridge.
The hunter, kael, the two kings, the shadowed and buried,
hovered silently in the distance, watching without presence,
seen only by those who had begunto awaken.
(05:41):
Below them, whispers moved likecurrents through the fog.
Then it happened From the miststepped a figure dressed in
chrism and robes, face obscuredby a smooth metallic mask etched
with fragments of forgottenlanguages.
But it wasn't the mask thatstruck the hunter, it was the
(06:02):
presence, a pull in his chestlike deja vu wrapped in grief.
Kel's breath hitched.
She stepped backwards.
What is this?
The hunter whispered.
The figure didn't speak, butbehind him came another younger
familiar.
The hunter staggered.
The wind howled, matching hispulse.
No, he muttered.
(06:23):
It was his brother, but notdrowned, not lost, alive and
empty.
His eyes were devoid of light,movements, precise, controlled,
not his own.
Kale stepped in front of thehunter, shielding him with her
body.
Stay back, she snapped, voicecracking with something deeper
(06:45):
than fear Certainty.
The invisible king's presencedraped over them like a cloak.
He didn't show himself, not yet, but his will was everywhere
and the weight pressing againsttheir ribs and the sorrow
unspoken.
The masked figure extended hishand towards Kale and she went.
Still.
Her eyes met the hunter's, notwith panic, with resolve.
(07:10):
They warned me, she whispered.
The kings told me that this ishow it must happen.
No, the hunter's voice wascoarse.
No, no, we could fight.
They say.
If I stay, you would never rise.
Tears fell, but her smile wassoft.
(07:31):
I chose this.
The brother moved forward like aghost, tethered to command.
The masked figure gently tookKael's wrist.
She didn't fight.
The hunter lunged, butsomething invisible slammed him
to the ground.
The weight of every falsememory, every lie the invisible
king had ever planted.
He watched helpless as theyvanished into the mist and the
(07:54):
storm broke.
Shadow and Beard King kneltbeside him.
It has begun, said the BeardKing.
He must face it all now, out ofBuried King.
He must face it all now Out ofthe shadow King.
Only then will the relicrespond.
The hunter wept, not becauseshe was gone, because part of
(08:20):
him had always known she wouldbe, and still he had hoped.
The hunter stumbled through thealley, unsure whether it was
sweat or tears stinging his eyes.
The air was thick with spices,cumin, saffron and dust, and the
sour tang of diesel.
Somewhere in the city, a prayercalled, echoed from a miner
(08:44):
floating across the rooftopslike silk veil in the wind.
The medina was alive merchantsshouting in Arabic, children
chasing each other between thestone stalls, the top of an old
shoe, over centuries worncobblestone.
But to him everything felt dead.
Kel was gone, taken in front ofhim, at worst, by a man wearing
(09:11):
a mask.
He couldn't stop recognizing,his lungs fought for breath like
he'd just surfaced fromdrowning.
The irony wasn't lost on himHis brother, the one whose death
he'd carried like a bone in histhroat since childhood.
The invisible king's greatestlie, now walking.
The kings hadn't spoken to himsince, not aloud, but they were
(09:33):
here.
He could feel them watchingfrom the silence, between his
thoughts, watching what he'd donext.
He turned down a quieter pathnear a dried-up fountain, away
from the noise of the mainsquare.
The stones beneath him were old, worn smooth by centuries of
footsteps.
He stopped nearing a crumblingarchway covered in ancient
(09:58):
mosaic tiles, faded blues andgreens spelling verses long
forgotten.
That's when the first memoryhit his father's voice You've
come from a long line of cowardspretending to be hunters.
They chase relics like theychased meaning.
You want to be different.
Find something that can't belost.
(10:20):
Those words hit like a blow tohis chest.
He leaned against the wall,sliding down until he crouched
low in the shadow.
His head dropped into his hands.
What was even real anymore.
Was Kale ever real?
Was the mission, was he?
Another memory surfacedChristmas morning his father,
(10:41):
half drunk but lucid, handinghim an old compass your
grandfather used this in thecatacombs.
Didn't help him see whatmattered, though.
What mattered You'll know ifyou love long enough.
His knuckles clenched All thoseyears.
He thought he was escaping.
The legacy now was circling himlike a noose.
Something cracked in the bricksabove him.
(11:04):
A bird launched out a desertcasserole, its wings scattering
dust into the golden light as itvanished.
A voice finally came, not in hisears, in his soul.
You're not the first to feelthis lost.
It was the Shadow King, softpresent, and you're not the
(11:26):
first to make the mistake.
Pain for truth, then the BuriedKing.
He wants you fractured boy.
Every lie he feeds you is tokeep you from looking inward.
Your father, your brother, theyare pieces of you, not prisons.
Thunder lifted his head aroundhim.
The wind swirled, a single pageof parchments scattered across
(11:50):
the stone, skipping and thenstopping at his boot.
It was blank.
No, something began to etchitself across the page, a relic
Signature.
The next location.
He blinked.
His chest rose For the firsttime in what felt like years.
(12:14):
He inhaled.
Cal was gone, but the hunt wasnot, and now it was personal.
He collapsed to his knees in theempty alleyway, the scent of
dust and salt in the airsomewhere in Assyria, though he
(12:34):
wasn't sure anymore.
His vision swam with heat andhallucination.
The echo of Kael's scream stillhaunted the walls.
It hadn't been the invisibleking who took her, not directly,
but the figure beside him, aman in a mask, tall and
deliberate, his grip tied aroundher wrist, huntress, just still
(12:55):
ached from the memory.
That wouldn't leave him.
He kept hearing her voice Run.
It wasn't a cry, it wasn't acommand, it was a plea, and he
failed her.
He leaned against the wall asthe adrenaline crashed.
For the first time since thisbegan, he wasn't sure if he
(13:16):
could keep going, not because ofthe danger He'd grown used to
that Because something insidehim had fractured, something he
hadn't known was holding himtogether.
He looked down at his palmsthere's blood, but not hers, his
(13:36):
own, for as fingernails hadclawed into his skin.
He had felt powerless before,but this, this was something
different.
The ground blurried, the worldtilted, he felt sideways into
the dust.
And then, through the veil ofunconsciousness, came a voice,
(13:58):
familiar, feminine, soft.
Wake up.
He opened his eyes, kael wasthere, kneeling beside him.
She wasn't real, he knew that,but her presence felt more real
than anything else had in days.
She pressed her fingers intohis temple and behind her stood
the Shadow King and the BerryKing.
(14:18):
Get up.
The Shadow King said you don'thave time to mourn her.
The Berry King added you werenever meant to stop here.
This is where you begin to see.
He groaned, sitting up theedges of his vision, still
trembling.
Is she gone?
For now?
Kael whispered, but not lost,and the man with her, the Shadow
(14:45):
King, stepped forward.
Your brother.
The hunter blinked no, mybrother's dead.
You think he's dead.
The bear king's voice echoedlike gravel over memory.
Or is that what you were madeto believe?
He shook his head violently.
(15:06):
I saw him drown.
No, you saw what the invisibleking placed in your mind.
The hunter's breath caught what.
Your brother is alive, but he'snot the boy you remember.
The Invisible King has himtwisted, made him a weapon, and
(15:33):
now he's coming for you.
Silence, it fell over him like atide.
His heart began to race, butnot from fear, from clarity,
from the memories.
All this time he doubtedhimself, questioned his visions,
the dreams, the factured truthsand now it was beginning to
make sense.
You must walk now, shadow Kingsaid, pointing towards the
(15:53):
narrow corridor between thecrumbling buildings to the next
gate.
As he stumbled to his feet, theBear King stepped beside him.
You must carry the weight ofyour father's silence, of a
lineage of relic hunters whonever stepped into what they
truly were that ends with you.
(16:16):
The wind shifted For a moment.
He felt his father's voice, amemory from childhood, sitting
on the rooftop, his fatherbeside him, talking not of
relics but of regret.
I gave up chasing what I lovedto become, what I thought I
should be.
His father had said Don't makethe same mistake.
(16:38):
He hadn't understood it then,but he did now.
He had understood it then, buthe did now.
And so, with his knees shakingand his mind burning, the hunter
took his first step towards thereckoning.
The king, who had no face,would be waiting, but he no
longer walked alone.
This was bloodline, this wasmemory, this was legacy reborn
(17:02):
in fire.
The medina was burning in gold,not literally, but in the way
the late sun struck thesandstone, in the way shadows
slid like memories across theground, in the way every alley
turned just before you couldremember the direction.
He didn't know how long he'dbeen walking, hours, days.
(17:24):
His mind had no foothold anymore, not since Kale was taken.
Every corner turn held aphantom the glint of her hair,
braided, the echo of her voice,the way she used to hum, without
knowing.
But it was all dust now, justechoes and heat.
And that's when the key beganto hum.
But it was all dust, now justechoes and heat.
(17:45):
And that's when the key beganto hum.
At first he thought it was hisheart, a tight thrumming in his
chest, but no, it was deeper.
Lower In his coat pocket, thekey began to glow faintly.
When he pulled it out, itshimmered with a pulse.
Faint markings, previouslyinvisible, now shimmered across
(18:05):
its stem, ruins carved in a waythat felt familiar.
He turned the key over and ashe did, the relics in his
satchel responded.
The cracked compass began tospin slowly.
The bell of Elkodout gave thefaintest chime, though he hadn't
touched it.
(18:25):
The flame that remembers grewwarm and the clock with no time,
silent for so long it let out asingle tick.
He froze.
The moment it did, somethingshifted around him.
The shadows reversed direction,the voices of the market
stuttered, then bent, as ifsound itself had to catch up.
(18:48):
A fruit vendor, aged andde-aged, in front of him in the
span of a blink.
Then came the visions.
In the glass of the stall'sbroken mirror.
He saw himself, but it wasn'thim, not now.
In one reflection he sawhimself as a merchant, another
as a beggar and one, keldon,exist.
His heart twisted More ticks.
(19:11):
The relic pulsed in time withthe clock.
It was as if they had beenwaiting not for him to find them
, but to find each other.
His knees buckled and hestumbled into the alley.
The key grew hot in his palm.
And then, don't let go, a voice, her voice, kale.
(19:35):
He whipped around, no one.
But it wasn't just a memory, itwas a projection, a tether.
The key grew even hotter.
Another voice came, older,slower the Buried King.
She left the map inside of you.
The vault doesn't open with akey, it opens with memory.
Then the Shadow King quietedher, but firmer.
(19:58):
And memory only awakens whenyou stop running from it.
He shut his eyes.
The heat, the clock, thepressure of it all was too much.
But something shifted inside ofhim.
He saw his father at theworkbench carving, telling
stories about the first relichunter, about a vault beneath
(20:20):
the world, about a key thatdidn't fit any lock because it
wasn't meant to.
It's not to open the door, hisfather said in the vision, it's
to open you.
His eyes snapped open and forthe first time he understood.
The relics weren't his tools,they were his trials and the key
it was himself.
(20:42):
All of it, his father's death,kale's abduction, the brother
who never drowned.
It had all been a part of asystem, a forge.
Pain wasn't the price, it wasthe process.
He gripped the relics tightly.
The clock ticked again.
Then it whispered a name, alocation the Vault of Ascension.
He stood slowly.
(21:04):
The market was frozen in time.
Now a boy, immense step, a birdwith wings, unmoving.
And in that stillness he heardevery relic hum together,
forming a single note, a call.
The Vault was waking and so washe.
(21:26):
The sky cracked like fracturedglass above the Moroccan cliffs,
wind clawing at the jagged rockfaces.
As the hunter stood at the cuspof something ancient, something
that had waited too long to beremembered, in a satchel, the
relics began to stir.
It started as a faint vibration, then a resonance.
(21:48):
Each one flame, bell, mirror,stone hummed in sequence like an
orchestra remembering its song.
And then the key that opensnothing glowed Its surface,
fractured, not broken, but alive.
Glowing etchings appearedacross it, clawing like veins of
silver lightning as it pulsed.
(22:11):
Those same etchings spreadacross the other relics.
He dropped to one knee,overwhelmed Memory slammed into
him His father's voice you wereborn of dust and decision.
Boy, our line was never cursed.
We were just afraid to claimthe power waiting in our blood.
The memory wasn't gentle.
(22:32):
It was a flood, his father'ssilhouette in a storm.
A door the boy was told neverto open.
The sauna vault ceiling shutwhen he was five.
Then something new A stonecircle, twelve figures standing,
a relic in each hand.
The kings.
(22:52):
You carry what they could not.
A voice echoed you passed whatthey feared.
The cracked compass spun wildlyin his pocket.
He pulled it out and it stoppedonly when he looked up at the
jagged archway of the stonebefore him, etched with the same
symbols as the key.
As he stepped forward,everything blurred, the world
(23:16):
twisted, his eyes rolled backand he fell.
When he opened them again, hewasn't in Morocco.
He was in a vast circularchamber made of firelight and
bone.
Shadows of ancient men stoodbefore him, each wearing the
mark of the relic hunters.
(23:36):
One stepped forward his ownface aged, worn eyes, tired.
I am what you could have becomehad you chosen safely.
Another stepped out, covered inchains of gold.
I am what you promised.
If you bowed to the invisibleking, then a third silent crown
(23:57):
of ash.
I am what you are becoming.
The three moved aside.
The shadow king stood at theedge of the circle, arms crossed
.
The sun had begun to set overthe crimson, stained cliffs of
the Atlas Mountains, castinglong shadows that danced like
(24:19):
ghosts over the sand-carvedridges.
The wind moved in slow spirals,now almost reverent.
The air around the Vault ofAscension shimmered faintly, as
if the very fabric of realitywas growing thin here.
The Understood on the precipice,his boots pressing to the
ancient path carved into therock by hands, long forgotten.
(24:41):
Path carved into the rock byhands, long forgotten.
The entrance of the vaultwasn't a door, it was an opening
, and the mountain itself shapedlike a jagged mouth waiting to
swallow him whole.
Behind him, the desertstretched out like an old memory
, raw, distant, impossible toreturn.
He turned the crack compassover in his hand.
(25:04):
It no longer sprung.
It pointed steadily now towardthe void ahead.
His fingers trembled as hereached for the chain around his
neck, the key, the one.
He had opened nothing for solong.
It had begun to hum faintly,vibrating with the sound he
(25:25):
could now feel in his bones morethan he could hear.
It surfaced on pulse with faintmarkings, sigils that hadn't
been there before.
As he held it out, the otherrelics had carried, begun to
simmer with a similar energy.
The clock, with no hands, beganto emit a soft ticking.
(25:45):
The flame that remembers warmedhis chest.
It was pack.
The bell of echoed doubt gavehim a subtle ring, not of fear,
but of recognition.
Something was awakening oraligning.
He took a breath.
Then he heard her voice You'realmost there, kale.
(26:06):
He spun around, but no one wasthere, not in the physical sense
.
Her voice echoed inside him.
Then, behind the words of herown, came another voice, older,
wiser.
You must understand somethingbefore you go any further.
(26:27):
Relic hunter, the vault is not aplace, it's a mirror.
Everything that has been hiddenwithin you, within the lineage,
will demand to be seen, and itdoes not blink.
Another voice, joint, smoothlace with shadow.
You will not face what you fear, said the shadow king.
You will face what you'veforgotten, and that is always
(26:51):
worse.
The hunter fell to one knee,gripping his head.
Visions flooded him, his fatherstanding over a half-packed
suitcase you were born for more,but you keep crawling back to
small.
His brother, laughing, drowning, crying, standing alive in the
firelight.
I didn't die, brother, I wastaken.
His mother's silence in thekitchen, his wife ring left on
(27:16):
the nightstand, his own facereflected in the mirror of names
blurred, unfinished.
Hunter shouted rage, pain,denial.
But it echoed off the rockswith no reply.
And then Kale's voice, soft,kind.
You are the last of them.
(27:39):
The last relic Hunter, heremembered now his father had
been one, so had his grandfather.
The last relic hunter, heremembered now.
His father had been one, so hadhis grandfather.
But they abandoned the path whenit was asking for too much.
They had hidden, disguised itas wisdom, settled for survival.
He now stood where none of themhad ever dared.
(28:05):
Do you see why we chose her,the Buried King asked.
The Hunter nodded she's theonly one who could break you and
still believe in you.
Tears fell freely.
Now I don't want to lose her,he said aloud.
You already did.
The Shadow King said gently.
(28:26):
The question is will you becomethe man who's worthy of getting
her back?
The vault cracked, thunderrumbled in a cloudless sky and
then, from behind him.
He felt it, a tremor in thesand, a presence.
He turned there, far across thedunes, to the silhouette of a
(28:49):
man, unmoving, watching theinvisible king, but now not
fully invisible, a shimmer of anoutline Distortion in the air,
and beside him, kael, still heldin suspended state, glowing
faintly in the twilight.
The hunter stepped forward.
The king stopped him.
(29:10):
You cannot reach her yet, saidthe buried king.
You must enter the vault first.
You're not ready, said theshadow king, not yet, but you
will be.
The hunter lowered his head, theweight of ten relics, ten
truths, ten wounds, draggingevery part of him down.
But somewhere he stood, placedhis hand on the edge of the
(29:34):
vault's mouth, as ice, cold andalive, as the sky darkened, the
mouth of the mountain groanedand before him an ancient
staircase began to unfold fromthe rock itself.
The threshold had been revealed, but it was not the beginning.
(29:56):
It was the end of every versionof him that came before he
turned one last time, lookingtowards kale, wherever she was,
his lips moved I'm coming foryou.
And then, with the crackcompass still warm in his hand
and the hum of the relicspulsing like heartbeat, he
(30:17):
stepped into the mountain, intothe final truth into himself,
into himself.
Oh man, man, oh man, oh man.
You know, you think the hardestpart is the climb right, the
(30:38):
journey, the pain, the monstersyou had to outrun to get here.
But it's not.
The hardest part is the door,because the door never guards a
place.
It guards a truth.
And truth doesn't ask you whoyou were Right.
(31:01):
It asks if you're willing todie to become who you could be.
See, the vault isn't someancient structure buried in a
mountain right.
It's the final reflection, it'sthe final reckoning.
The mirror doesn't care aboutyour excuses, your pride or your
past.
It only cares if you're readyto leave behind, really, every
(31:25):
mask, every version, every falsehistory that kept you small.
We're all standing on the edgeof it now, with a relic hunter.
He hasn't touched the door, hehasn't whispered the words, but
you can feel it pulsing.
You can feel it pulsing in hisheart and in his soul, in his
(31:46):
breath, behind his eyes.
It's that feeling that lives,but it also could have died in
you.
Think about it.
Kale is gone.
She was taken by a face he usedto love.
And the kings?
They've gone silent, they'rejust watching.
(32:07):
Now they're waiting and hedoesn't know what's real anymore
.
His father's voice echoes louderwith every step.
He's asking himself was hemeant for this?
Was any of this his?
Was it just a memory he justmistook for a destiny?
He can't tell.
But we do know this that thevault opens for one reason To a
(32:33):
man willing to lose everything.
That isn't true.
So, as he stands there on theedge of his story and breathes
one last time as the man that hewas, because the next breath he
takes, it will be different.
It will not be the breath of aseeker, it will not be the
breath of a son, but the breathof something more.
(32:56):
And that's what the vault iswaiting for.
So let's, let's, let's do this.
Let's, let's do this, let's doour reflections.
Reflection one the true test iswaiting Right now.
You're not in the past or thefuture.
(33:17):
You're standing on the edge ofsomething massive.
On to the weight of it.
Don't rush it, okay.
Number two what you bring withyou matters.
You can't ascend by clinging onto things that were meant for
smaller versions of you.
(33:38):
Right, start making the list.
What needs to be left at thegate?
Okay, number three doubt is agatekeeper, not a stop sign.
The presence of fear doesn'tmean you're off path.
It means you're on the edge ofa breakthrough.
Don't turn around now.
Number four lineage is aninvitation, not a limitation.
(34:06):
See, the hunter's bloodlinefailed to reach their peak, but
it doesn't bind him right.
Just like your path doesn'tdecide your future, you do.
And number five this is themoment you become, not when the
door opens, but right before itdoes.
This is where the identity isburned and the purpose is chosen
(34:28):
.
Feel that.
Let it brand you.
So, guys, I don't really haveanything else to say because I'm
going to go record number 10right now.
I am, so I just want to thankyou so much for listening today.
Thank you for all your guys'support.
I just, from the bottom of myheart, thank you so much.
(34:50):
I'm going to go record number10 so I can go release that here
as soon as possible.
Okay, thank you, guys foreverything.
And remember this you createyour reality.
Take care.
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