Gents Journey
Helping Men become the Gentleman they deserve to be. This Podcast is part inspiration part motivation. We discuss what it takes to be a Gentleman in the 21st Century. We also talk about how to deal with the internal and external battles that life throws at us. So come be apart of the Gents Journey!
Gents Journey
The Relic Hunter: The Mirror of Names
What happens when you step into a temple that remembers every name you've ever been called? In this profound episode of the Relic Hunter series, we journey with our protagonist into an ancient Aztec temple housing the Mirror of Names—a relic that forces him to confront the labels that have shaped his identity.
Deep within flooded chambers and spiraling staircases, the hunter and his companion Kale navigate a labyrinth where names aren't just carved in stone—they burn into skin. Every whispered doubt, every accusation, every identity forced upon him manifests physically in this sacred space. The mysterious Unseen King lurks in shadows, attempting to rename and claim our hero through his deepest insecurities.
This episode isn't just about supernatural phenomena—it's about the very real way we internalize others' definitions of us. How many names are you carrying that were never yours to begin with? How many labels have you accepted as truth that actually limit who you might become?
The mirror reveals a profound truth: we don't find ourselves by searching harder; we find ourselves by letting go of what we're not. Like a sculpture hidden within stone, your authentic self isn't created—it's uncovered by removing what doesn't belong. The hunter must shed layer after layer of false identity before finally hearing his true name—not through discovery, but through release.
Whether you're struggling with impostor syndrome, healing from criticism, or simply trying to remember who you were before the world told you who to be, this episode offers a powerful reminder: you are not what they called you. You are what you choose next.
Join the conversation about identity and self-discovery by connecting through the podcast description link, emailing anthony@gentsjourney.com, or finding us on Instagram @mygentsjourney. 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."
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast. My name is Anthony, your host, and today we are in episode four of the Relic Hunter. Hope you guys have been enjoying this series, because I've been enjoying sharing it with you. So let's go ahead and let's get into the cold open. So let's go ahead, let's get into the cold open.
Speaker 1:He's underwater, but he isn't drowning. He's drifting, suspended in warm, ancient current. Sunlight cuts through the surface like a shattered memory, somewhere above the jungle, breathes, somewhere below the past, waits. The hunter floats there, eyes open, arms wide Around him, shape, swirls Of names, voices, fragments of labels not his own, liar, failure, leader, coward, savior, son. They move like fish through the water, beautiful and cruel, some sting, some comfort, but none of them really belong to him. Not really. He reaches for one, just one, a name that meant something once, but it slips through his fingers and disappears into the depths. And then something emerges. Something emerges A shape. It's dark, it's reflective, it's a mirror Not floating, waiting. It's heavy, it's ancient, it's alive. He stares into it and for a split second he doesn't see his face. He sees every other version of himself the one who never left, the one who stayed, the one who became what others needed, the one who never spoke up, the one who always smiled even when it hurt. They stare back. A storm begins to stir above the water, darkens and just before he wakes he hears a voice. You are not what they called you. The sound of the jungle is never quiet, even in the early morning mist. The trees chatter with birdsong and insects buzzing around in anticipation, and the thick, wet air hums with an ancient rhythm that speaks of old gods and older curses.
Speaker 1:The hunter steps forward slowly, machete in hand, brushing back with the thick green wall of foliage that has grown to protect what man was never meant to reclaim. Kale followed closely behind, silent but alert, her eyes flickering towards the high canopies where hollermonkey scream warnings not meant for them. Neither of them speaks, not yet the path to this place has been overgrown with more than vines and roots. The GPS coordinates had vanished from his tablet when they crossed the third river. His compass began spinning again, just as it had when he lied to himself in the desert tomb. The cracked compass hadn't stopped spinning since, not once, and that bothered him more than he let.
Speaker 1:On Up ahead, the trees part, and there it is a ruin that breathes, half-swallowed by the jungle, half-submerged by floodwaters and some of forgotten age. An Aztec temple unlike he's ever seen before. Forgotten age, an Aztec temple unlike he's ever seen before. Its entrance sits sunken into the marshy basin. Stone steps leading into the corridor of pitch black water. Carvings of names spiral across its surface, glyphs etched in obsidian, too smooth, too deliberate. Some shimmer, others pulse faintly in the shade. Kale steps up beside him, her voice barely above a whisper, you feel it. He nods, he doesn't say what it is because he can't. It's not just power, it's not even just danger. It's not just power, it's not even just danger. It's memory, not his, though not entirely, but familiar and heavy.
Speaker 1:She walks ahead, placing her hand along the entrance wall. Her fingertips skim one of the glyphs. It glows softly, then fades, like the wall just remembered her. He watches her for a moment. The way she moves here is deliberately, like she's done this before or like someone told her how You've been quiet. He says finally, this place doesn't want words. She replies, still facing the temple. It wants silence and listening. He exhales slowly and flicks the top of his cigar, ash dropping into the reeds. Then why bring me? She turned now, eyes steady, a little sad, because it doesn't want you but it needs you. There's no reply to that, just the distant roll of thunder. Too far to be real, too close to be ignored.
Speaker 1:They descend together, the steps groan beneath them, slick with moss and time. Water climbs their boots. The light from the tree line fades as the mouth of the temple swallows them whole. Inside, it's not just dark. Inside it's not just dark, it's reflective. The walls shimmer faintly, not from torchlight but from something deeper, a low bi-luminescent pulse that comes and goes like the breathing of a sleeping giant. The floor is shallow, water clear, still untouched for centuries. Each step leaves a ripple, each breath echoes back.
Speaker 1:The glyphs on the walls become more intricate Now. They don't just show symbols, they show names, actual words, dozens of them, some in Latin, other in glyphs, too old to translate, some carved in English. How he murmurs, tracing one with his son, cale doesn't answer, but the name he touches, it's his, not Hunter, not any title he's used, but the real one, the one he never gave anyone on this mission, the one only his father used, the one he tried to bury. He pulled his hand away like it burned him. It knows you. Kale says quietly what is this place? She looks up at the wall. For the first time since they began this journey, she looks afraid. This is where the world tries to rename you. He stares at her, and if you don't know who you are, she finishes, you start to believe them. They walk deeper, the air grows colder. The names grow louder, not in volume but in presence. Every word carved here was meant to stick like scars. Titles that have been forced onto others, labels, chains disguised as roles Miter, whore, savior, criminal, monster, father, coward, victim, king. Each one carved by someone else's hand, each one never fully erased.
Speaker 1:The hunter pauses in front of a mirror embedded in the far chamber wall. It's made of black glass, framed in obsidian and gold, and though the water laps at its base, the mirror stays dry, untouched. Still, he sees his reflection, but just barely, because overlaid on top of it are thousands of versions of himself the soldier, the liar, the boy who watched his brother drown, the man who ran instead of stayed, the version of whom never left home, the one who married her, the one who buried her. He sees all of them and he hates some of them, and he misses others. Kale stops beside him watching his face more in the mirror. The relic doesn't just reflect, she says, it remembers what you let them call you and what you started to believe. He doesn't respond, but his breathing changes because somewhere in that reflection he sees something else not a memory, a possibility. Memory, a possibility. A man he hasn't yet become, but could. And that's when the mirror hums low, deep, like it's exhaling. Water begins to rise in the chamber, slowly, not rushing, but enough to make them pay attention. It's starting. Kel whispers. The hunter stares into the mirror and it stares back. The water was higher now. It rose inch by inch, not enough to panic, but enough to make you notice, enough to make you ask yourself what would happen if it didn't stop.
Speaker 1:The hunter waded forward in silence, boots echoing through the shadow flood. Every step sounded like an accusation. Each name carved along the stone corridor seemed more personal, now more familiar. He wasn't just seeing them, he was feeling them. They clung to him like wet clothes Leader, betrayer, sinner, savior, manipulator, protector. Some were his, some weren't, but all of them were true, at least to someone. That was the cruel brilliance of this place. You didn't get to decide what was real. The world did, and then it asked you if you'd wear it. Behind him, kel walked quietly. Her fingertips traced the glyphs, not in wonder, almost in mourning, like each name was a grave marker or maybe a prophecy. Each name was a grave marker, or maybe a prophecy.
Speaker 1:The chamber narrowed, forcing them to walk single file. The light from his torch grew, distorting the reflection off the water, painting the ceiling with flickering fire shadows. It looked like the whole corridor was bleeding flame from above. You hear that? He asked. Pausing, kel nodded before he could finish the echoes. They're wrong. The space is bending. He tested it, tapped the butt of his machete against the stone wall. The sound came back delayed. It was twisted Like it had traveled farther than it should have. She whispered more to herself than him the mirror isn't just a relic, it's the lock. The whole place is a vault. It was made to protect you. Mean that's all the way around? He said no. She replied this mirror's what guards, and what guards you from it? The logic didn't sit right with him. But nothing in this temple did.
Speaker 1:They reached another threshold, a circular chamber. Its entrance shaped like an open mouth, a carved jaguar curled in its own fangs, obsidian eyes glinting from the walls as though it's watching them. The moment he stepped through, the air grew colder, the water deeper and the silence complete. No echo here, no sound at all, just breath, just memory. The hunter paused in the doorway. Something's wrong, he murmured.
Speaker 1:Cal didn't answer. She had frozen in place. He turned, he looked at her. Her eyes weren't on him, they were locked on the far wall. He followed her gaze and he stopped breathing.
Speaker 1:There it was A second mirror, smaller, circular, floating inches above the water. No frame, no stand, no explanation, just levitating. And around around it, etched in stone, were names, so many names. But unlike the walls before, they were not carved into rock but into metal. Bronze plates hammered and warped with heat, melted into the walls. Names burned into like punishment.
Speaker 1:Kale stepped forward almost unwillingly. No, melted into the walls, names burned into like punishment. Kale stepped forward almost unwillingly. No, she touched one of the plates. Her hand trembled. It's my name, she whispered, your real name. She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Speaker 1:The mirror glowed slothfully. The mirror glowed softly. The surface shimmered like moonlight on oil and in it he saw her, but not Kale, a younger version, dark, short hair, eyes filled with fire. Instead of this practiced calm, she was screaming and she was burning. He saw flames all around her. A lab, a man in white, a glass door she couldn't break and her own reflection screaming back wearing a name she no longer claimed. Then it was gone, just like that.
Speaker 1:The mirror went still, the water calmed and Carol turned away. I don't want to go any further, she said softly. He looked at her, really looked. For the first time in the journey she wasn't composed, she was cracking. He moved to speak, but her voice came first I. I came here because I thought I was ready to watch you break, but I wasn't ready to see myself, not like that. This place isn't like the others, he offered, uncertain. It's not testing us, it's showing us what we already failed. She laughed bitterly, wiping her face without tears. That's the thing about names Even if you bury them, they still speak.
Speaker 1:A silence passed between them, thicker than before. Then he turned and stepped towards the center of the room. The smaller mirror pulsed again as he approached, the water vibrated and this time it spoke, not in words, not aloud, but in images. His mother, the war, the ring. He never gave her. The grave, he never visited the child that could have been Every version of himself that almost existed, but never got the chance.
Speaker 1:He dropped to one knee trying to catch his breath. The mirror did not stop, neither did the water. It was chest high now. It was rising, kale. He started, started, but his voice broke. She was already beside him, not holding him, not saving him, just there, present, solid, unmoving. It only shows what you're readily behind. She whispered. Let it burn.
Speaker 1:The glyphs on the wall lit up, one by one, a dozen names, then twenty, then fifty, all them glowing and beginning to melt. The chamber began to hum, the air itself distorted, and in the mirror, finally, something shifted, not a memory, a choice. His reflection became clear. A choice, his reflection became clear. And for the first time since entering this place, he saw only himself. No labels, no shame, just the man Bruised, weathered, scarred, but real. The mirror cracked, perfect line down the middle, and from its core, floating up through the breaking water, came the next relic a piece of the obsidian mirror shaped like a shard of a crown, etched with a single phrase what you are is not what you've been called. He caught it in his hand before it sank. The water stopped rising, the name stopped glowing and Kale exhaled. They didn't speak.
Speaker 1:As they left the mirror room, there was silence that felt like peace, and there was silence that felt like aftermath. This was neither. It was the silence of two people walking away from something they hadn't fully escaped. The quarter had narrowed again, stone, tighter, air heavier. The water receded to their ankles, leaving behind a sheen of black shimmer across the floor, like the temple was bleeding memory. The hunter walked ahead, torched, raised, high. Kel walked beside her, but her hand never left the wall, as if she still needed the stone to remind her what was real.
Speaker 1:They turned upon a corner and entered the chamber. It wasn't large, it didn't need to be to find a corner and entered the chamber. It wasn't large. It didn't need to be, because this room wasn't for walking, it was for listening. And the moment they stepped in, the voices began, not loud, not aggressive, just persistent. You always quit. You're not him. You're trying too hard. She'll leave you too. This isn't who you are. They were wrong about you. No, they were right.
Speaker 1:The hunter froze. The voices didn't sound like an echo. They echoed like memory, like thoughts he said he never said out loud, like phrases whispered to him by people he trusted once, voices of old teachers, dead friends, former lovers, his father, his commander himself. What is this? He said on his breath. Kel didn't answer right away, then softly it's the chamber of echoes. I read about this place once when, before I met you, I was trying to find my way out of something I didn't even know I was already inside it. He looked at her. She looked older here, not in the face, but in the weight she carried. Like the voices in this place were hers too, maybe louder.
Speaker 1:This chamber plays your memories back to you. She continued, but not as you remember them, as they were recorded. He didn't understand. As they were recorded, he didn't understand. She also added every time someone names you, that name sticks somewhere, like soot in a chimney. We don't see it, but it's there and it builds until you forget the air. It used to smell like this place. It scrapes the chimney clean and we choke on the smoke'. He muttered "'She nodded, "'exactly'. "'he stepped forward. "'the voices followed him. "'you only got this far because they let you. "'you need her. "'you are stronger alone. "'you're still trying to prove yourself' shut up. He growled, but the voice has only changed. She doesn't love you. She's pretending she knows the truth. So do you.
Speaker 1:He turned eye, searching the shadows. The room was circular, stone seat carved in the wall, in a perfect ring. It looked like a council chamber, but there were no figures, no threats, only reflections. And every seat was him. Twelve of them, each from a different stage of life the boy who lost his mother, the man who enlisted, the soldier who came home in pieces. The lover who left too early. The friend who let someone die, the lover who left too early, the friend who let someone die, the version who almost stayed, the one who never spoke up. They were all here, watching, judging. What is this place? He asked aloud again A mirror of what I've been or a warning of what I still might be? Kale didn't answer.
Speaker 1:This time Her eye was locked on one of the figures. It was her Younger Blood on her shirt, holding a lighter Kale, he said, moving towards her. She stepped back. They should have let me burn. She whispered. What? The man in the white coat, the one from the mirror. He watched me scream. He didn't move, he didn't blink. I remember thinking this is what truth must feel like Not pain, not betrayal, but knowing, knowing you're alone. You're alone. He stepped toward her slowly. You're not alone now, I know, she whispered. That's what scares me.
Speaker 1:The room shifted, the reflections flickered. One of the seats the one who had been empty when they arrived was now filled. But it wasn't a version of him. It was a man in black face, hidden beneath a hood, but the outline was familiar. Who the hell is that, he asked? Cal didn't move. The Unseen King. The name echoed, not in the chamber but in him.
Speaker 1:The unseen king, the one who names from behind the curtain, the one who gives labels like chains, the one who builds cages out of expectation. This figure didn't speak, but his presence pressed down the room like gravity. And then you gave them all up. The voice said it wasn't the hunter that spoke, it wasn't Kale, it was every version of him. The twelve were on the circle, speaking at once. You let them die so you could be someone else. You walked away from every version of us. That was the whole point. He growled no. They answered. That was the lie. Cal stepped between him and the voices he's not yours anymore. The unseen king tilted his head and then he disappeared. The figures vanished. The water receded into cracks.
Speaker 1:In the center of the room where he had stood was a stone bowl. Inside it a fragment of a medallion, the third relic. It shimmered faintly. Hatched on its surface. Twelve names each crossed out, and the thirteenth his still being carved. He reached for it, but before his hand closed, kel caught his wrist. Not yet. She said Wait, why? Because the she let go. He picked it up and as he did, the sound of dripping water returned. The spell was broken. But something was different now. Kel wasn't behind him anymore, she was beside him.
Speaker 1:They left the chamber slowly. Neither spoke at first, they just walked shoulders damp, boots soaked, breath ragged from more than just air. Each echo of their footfalls sounded off like the temple itself began mimicking them. Learning how they moved. Cal kept her hand near the torch, as if she needed the fire to remind her she was still solid.
Speaker 1:The corridor bent downward, slowly spiraling. The floor dipped into a slanted ramp, and then a step and then another, until the only path was down. That was when the walls began to change. Carvings lined both sides, now R, rows upon rows of names etched in stone, not ornate, not ceremonial, scarred, slashed, as if someone carved them in pain. Each one, a sound if you got close enough, a faint, trailing whisper of whoever had once been called it. Listen, bunder, said. Kale stopped beside him. She looked toward a name, one carved deeper than the rest. Fraud, it hissed, but not aloud, but in her bones. Their labels, she said quietly. Not just names, no, they're the things people are called when they're failing and falling.
Speaker 1:The hunter touched one Traitor. It burned the tip of his finger. He pulled back. A small mark remained. Don't touch them. Cal said why? Because the ones that hurt are the ones you feared becoming. He flicked his hand. The word hadn't left a wound, it left a brand. The stairwell narrowed again. Stone against stone Stets steeper now and with every level down, the walls closed in tighter, not physically, but emotionally.
Speaker 1:The voices returned, not memories, this time Accusations. You let your brother die. You never said what you meant. You hid behind mission. You're not a man, you're a cause. The unseen king started whispering, not from behind them, not ahead, Within the walls. He's here, kale said. Suddenly the torch flickered violently. The air felt thinner. How do you know? Because he's rewriting the walls.
Speaker 1:The hunter looked. She was right. Some of the names were disappearing. Letters twisting, rearranging, and now one read Heretic. The other read Kale. He knows me, she whispered. Okay, what does he want? She looked at the stone as if it would answer To rename you. If he can rename you. He can claim you how you forget who you are. And once you forget, he gets to write the rest.
Speaker 1:The steps grew darker, wetter, and then the walls opened into a new chamber. It was narrow like a throat, a vertical shaft with a long spiral staircase lining its walls, descending into black water far below. The ceiling was lost in shadow. The steps looked slick, dangerous. The torch barely lit more than a few feet in either direction. But it wasn't the architecture that stopped them. It was the figures.
Speaker 1:They lined the stairs unmoving, petrified bodies frozen in agony. Every one of them was reaching out toward the wall trying to claw something off their skin, but the names wouldn't leave. Each body had been labeled, some on the chest, some on the face, some written in blood. Each name was different, but the pain was the same. The hunter stepped forward. This is where the names stick, cal said behind him. The further you go down, the more they get under your skin, until they become your skin, and if I keep going, only one name survives. He looked at her Yours. She didn't answer. Instead she stepped onto the stairwell.
Speaker 1:The descent was slow. With every level the whispering grew louder, not from the unseen king now, but from the bodies. Don't let it rename you. It burns. You're more than what they said Run, please. Please, remember your name. Remember your real name".
Speaker 1:The hunter's breathing slowed, not from calm but from resistance. The deeper he went, the more the names began to appear. One carved on the wall Disappointment. Another one, etched in bones, said liar. A third one, glowing faintly in the dark, lost one. They weren't from others this time, they were his, the names he had given himself.
Speaker 1:And suddenly he felt them, a slow burn across his chest. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing skin that had begun to change. A single word, glowing just beneath the collarbone, forgotten. He stopped Kale. He called. It's happening. He looked back. Her neck was bleeding slightly. Wounds begun to form across her shoulder. Useless, keep moving, she said, teeth clenched. It can't finish the branding if you don't stop. What happens if it does? You become one of them? They looked at the frozen bodies. He nodded. They kept going Halfway down, the torch died.
Speaker 1:No sound, no sizzle, just darkness, total darkness. No sound, no sizzle, just darkness, total darkness. They froze, don't move. Kel whispered why he's close.
Speaker 1:The unseen king was here now, not seen, not heard, but felt now. Not seen, not heard, but felt like breath on the back of your soul and then you're not worthy of what you're carrying. The voice wasn't in the room, it was in his mind. She pities you. That's all it is. You think this journey's about you. It was never yours. You were only chosen because the one who have done it died.
Speaker 1:The hunter gripped the railing Stop it. He growled. I never started it, you did the moment. You believed you were broken. Cal was breathing harder. He's talking to me now. What is he saying? That I should have left, that I'm only here because I'm too weak to have a mission of my own. Don't believe him, I don't.
Speaker 1:But she hesitated and that was enough. Suddenly, the stair beneath her foot cracked. She slipped. The hunter lunged, grabbing her wrist. He caught her. But something else caught him A hand from the dark Fingers, cold and visible, wrapped around his ankle, trying to pull him down. Let me go. Kel shouted. Not happening. He reached for the torch. No flame. He grabbed the relic. Instead it pulsed in his pocket. A soft golden glow filled the chamber. The hand vanished. Kel climbed back up, shaking. They sat there breathing, shaking. We're close, she whispered. How do you know? Because he's getting louder.
Speaker 1:They reached the bottom, a stone stairway etched with no symbols, just a single seal, a circle with one word inscribed beneath it original. Kale stepped forward, reached for the seal. Are you ready, she asked. Hunter nodded, but inside he wasn't sure who he was answering. Hunter nodded, but inside he wasn't sure who he was answering. The seal opened with a hiss, not of mechanics or traps, but memory. The air that poured from the chamber beyond was warm, wet, almost metallic, like breath after a long cry. It smelled of things buried, of old earth, of ink, of salt and something like burning hair. The hunter stepped through first, relic gripped tightly in his hand. The compass had stopped spinning. Kale followed. She said nothing.
Speaker 1:This chamber was unlike the others no walls of names, no spiraling stairs, no haunting voices, just a clear circular room carved perfectly in stone. At the center, a wide black pool. It didn't ripple, it didn't reflect, it absorbed light like it fed on it. Torches lined the outer walls but refused to shine on the surface. It was as if the water itself was made of shadow. What is this place, the hunter asked the pool of remembering Kel replied, voices barely above whisper.
Speaker 1:The one place the unseen king can't fully enter. Why? Because it doesn't lie. She stepped forward. The hunter followed cautiously his boots scraping softly on the stone. Around the edge of the pool were dozens of sandals, boots and bare footprints scorched into the rock, some charred black, some was worn by time.
Speaker 1:Kale crouched and ran her fingers across one "'These are the ones who came before' "'Before what' before you? She looked up at him. Her eyes didn't carry a mystery anymore. They carried weight. You think you're the first one to come looking for the Vault of Ascension? I'm not. No, but you might be the last.
Speaker 1:He stepped toward the water. Something stepped toward him, not with feet, not with sound, but with memory. The surface of the pool began to shimmer, not ripple shimmer like heat above desert sand. Then came the voices, not whispering this time, laughing, his laugh, his real laugh years ago. And a woman's voice, soft, playful, teasing. He froze.
Speaker 1:The water revealed the image, a memory untouched by time. It was a small stone house, a fire pit. Outside, a man younger than him, him, but freer Hair, longer eyes, brighter. Beside him, a woman, dark curls, golden eyes, laughing as she tossed something into the fire. She wore one of his old jackets, sleeves too long, and she smiled like she was trying to memorize his soul. Do you know her. Kel asked yeah, what was her name? He paused. It took too long. I I don't remember the woman's memory touched the younger hunter's face and said something inaudible.
Speaker 1:But he remembered that feeling, that warmth in his chest, the way his jaw clenched when she looked at him like that, the fear of not being enough. He looked down. The pool began to shift again Now a battlefield, smoke, blood, a child screaming in the distance, a sword in his hand, fire on his clothes, the woman the same one being dragged away and him running in the other direction. No, kel stepped back. This is where the Unseen King gets in, she said. But you said? I said he couldn't lie here, but he doesn't need to. All he has to do is show you what you already hate about yourself.
Speaker 1:The hunter fell to one knee, not from pain, but from truth. The water began to shift again faster, image after image after image. All moments he forgot on purpose, all truths he buried to keep moving. A betrayal to save himself A stolen relic. He lied about returning A letter. He never sent A brother, he never mourned, a woman he never fought for. And now he was drowning in all of it.
Speaker 1:Kel grabbed his arm Enough. Why didn't I save her? He whispered. I told her I would, because you were scared, because a part of you believed you didn't deserve her. I don't. The pool responded. A word began forming on its surface not carved, not written, unworthy. Cale stepped forward, standing between him and the pool. Look at me. He didn't Hunter. Look at me. He finally raised his eyes.
Speaker 1:The Unseen King wants that word to become you, but it isn't. That's what this place tests, not what you did, but what you believe about it. You've been here before. It wasn't a question. Yes, what did you see? She hesitated. A child, she whispered, crying in the dark, calling for someone who never came. Who? My mother? She rubbed a tear from her cheek. This place doesn't care what you were, it only cares what you carry. The water begins to still. The word dissolved. A new one rose, glowing in soft gold Choice. It's our new one. Kale said what do I choose? Your name before he gives you his?
Speaker 1:Suddenly, the pool exploded in light. Not water, not fire, something between From it rose a figure, not solid, not formed, invisible, but yet undeniably present. The unseen king had entered, but only halfway. His voice didn't echo. It rapt. You've seen who you were, it said. Now let me tell you who you can become.
Speaker 1:The hunter stepped forward trembling. You were never meant to lead. You were not chosen. You're carried by guilt, by women stronger than you, by moments you ran from. Take my name and I'll give you peace. Kel grabbed the hunter's hand. If you take it, she said you'll never leave here. What happens if I don't? Then you have to become someone who deserves your own name.
Speaker 1:He stepped back from the pool. The light receded, the presence faded. Kale exhaled you passed. What was that? A test that you didn't? Let him finish the sentence. The water was still again. This time it showed one word Hunter, but not branded. It was etched in calm. Kale smiled slightly. That name. It's not perfect, but it's yours, he nodded.
Speaker 1:The passage behind the pool was narrow, too narrow for comfort. Rough stones scraped their shoulders as they brushed through single file. The hunter led with a torch, his breathing measured but tense. Behind him, kale walked silently, but her fingers trembled at her sides. She knew what came next.
Speaker 1:The tunnel opened into a chamber of impossible scale. The walls were made of entirely of glass, tinted obsidian black at first glance, but when the torchlight struck them, thousands of faint reflections shimmered in a being not duplicates, not mirror mirroring. Each reflection was different and some the hunter looked older and others broken and several eyes glowing red like the ones from his nightmares. One version of him had no mouth. One wore chains. One stood tall in gleaming gold armor with Kale's body in his arms. They weren't reflections, they were possibilities. He stepped forward. A pulse of energy rippled through the chamber. Each mirrored version twisted. They didn't mimic him. Now they watched.
Speaker 1:This isn't just a mirror room. Kel said behind him. Okay, what is it? Is it A hall of names? The ones you've been called, the ones you feared, the ones you try to outrun? She gestured to the wall beside her. A faint whisper filled the space Coward. A second voice followed Killer, traitor, unworthy. The reflections began to flicker, one by one, each speaking in turn. The sound didn't echo, it circled like a storm, coiling tighter around them. He spun in place His own voice From dozens of mirrors. You'll never be enough. You're not a leader. You needed to save her. They all died because of you.
Speaker 1:He dropped the torch. It cluttered, flames dancing mildly and in that moment the mirrors ignited, not with fire, with memory. The room filled with ghost lights, swirling images painted the glass from within. Each reflection now showed a name floating above his head Son, Brother, disappointment, failure, liar, chosen, one Pretender, weapon, burden, hope. Each title glowed for a moment, then burned into the mirror with a hiss, leaving a blackened scar.
Speaker 1:His body staggered under the weight. Each name carved itself briefly into his skin, glowing with pain, before vanishing. He clenched his fists. I didn't ask for any of this. The unseen king answered, not with voice, with presence. A stillness filled the chamber, not silence, stillness, the way the world feels before an earthquake or a death. You didn't need to ask, you accepted them each time you bowed your head.
Speaker 1:Kel stepped between him and the mirrors. You don't have to take this in alone, but I did. He asked, voice hoarse. Every time someone called me something, I let it become true.
Speaker 1:He walked to the center of the room and the mirror of names rose. It wasn't a wall, it was a single monolith, a 12-foot pillar of flawless obsidian, polished, humming like a tuning fork. It didn't show his face, not at first. Only the words began to swirl again, this time slower Mistake, night, enemy, savior, nobody. The one who failed. What do I do? He asked out loud. Kale, voice tremored. You shed them. How you named them and then released them.
Speaker 1:He stepped forward. Coward, the word floated, then burned, liar, it hissed and vanished. Weak, gone, addict, runner, abandoner. Each name vanished like vapor. Her abandoned her. Each name vanished like vapor. But then came one that wouldn't fade Hers. It wasn't a name, it was a wound, a memory from a pool, that face, that fire, that woman. I left her. No, kale said you aren't ready to be him yet, and if I never am, then she was the price. But now you get to choose who we are before you love again.
Speaker 1:He looked up, the mirror rippled. This time his reflection finally appeared and for the first time in his life he looked neutral, not proud, not broken, just present. What's my name? Kale stepped forward, eyes wide, look. His reflection opened its mouth and said it, a name he hadn't heard since he was a boy, the name only his mother used when she sank him in the garden Valon. The mirror pulsed and the rest of the name shattered. Every mirror in the chamber cracked outward, not destroyed, broken open, and from each a soft whisper, not curses but permission. A final voice echoed calm, ancient. Not the unseen king, not Kael, it was his own. You're not what they called you, you are what you choose.
Speaker 1:Next, the monolith faded into the mist and in its place a small shard of polished obsidian the fourth relic. Kel picked it up and held it out to him. What does it do? He asked. It remembers your name. When you forget, how many times can I use it? She smiled as many times as you need. He took it. The mirror shimmered one last time. No face, just words. The mirror names have shown its truth. Go now, before he offers you another. They turned to leave Behind them a faint whisper from nowhere. Valen is not enough. Cal stopped, don't listen to him. I didn't. I met me. Phew, that was a deep one.
Speaker 1:You know there are names you carry that aren't yours, but you've worn them for so long you think they might be. You know names that were spoken in anger or disappointment, names whispered in hallways or burned into you through silence. You're too sensitive or you're too late, or you're not enough. See, these aren't just words. They're weapons and worse, they're seeds. And once they take root, they're weapons and worse, they're seeds. And once they take root, they bloom into something dark, quietly shaping your reflection until you no longer recognize it.
Speaker 1:In this episode, you watch the hunter walk into a mirror chamber and face every name he's ever been called, some of the names he earned, but most of them he didn't. But here's the truth. It doesn't matter where the name came from. It only matters if you accept it. The Mirror of Names was never meant to destroy him. It was meant to reveal the invisible armor he's been wearing, crafted from false identity. Right, you know of expectations and guilt and the unresolved shame. I mean, let's break that open.
Speaker 1:You know, first, notice how the reflections didn't mirror him, right, they watched. That's what old identities do. They don't vanish, they wait. Right, and for a weak moment, you know, or for a familiar trigger or way back in, you know. Let me ask you this have you ever done the work to grow and feel like you slipped backwards? You didn't. You just turned your head and one of your old names saw the door crack open.
Speaker 1:Second, kale's moments matters here. Right, she didn't save him, she witnessed him. That's a huge difference. You know, when we're shedding identities, right, what we do, actually, what we don't need, is someone rushing in to rescue us, right, what we do need is someone strong enough to stand there while we burn off what's false. You might need to be that person for someone else and if you're lucky, you'll find someone like that too. But remember, witnessing isn't easy. It means not looking away when someone comes undone. And third, the name he finally hears Valen. Is this true one? But he didn't find it by searching. He found it by releasing.
Speaker 1:So many of us are on a quest to find ourselves right, but here's what the relic teaches you don't find yourself by looking harder. You find yourself by letting go of what you're not See. The self is not found. It's revealed like a statue hidden beneath stone, right. And sometimes you don't need to carve it, you just need to stop gluing the wrong pieces on top. See, the unseen king's whisper at the end was no mistake. Valon is not enough. That's what the voice always says when you're close is not enough. That's what the voice always says when you're close, the voice that wants you to believe that your truth isn't enough. And that voice it's not just outside of you. Sometimes it's you. But here's the thing Now that you've seen the mirror right, you know the game. You don't fight the voice by arguing. You fight it by becoming so solid in who you are that no whisper matters.
Speaker 1:See, this episode wasn't about reflection, not in glass, but in choice. See, you don't control what others call you. You only control what you respond to, and the more I should say, really, and more than that is what you believe. What name are you answering to? That was never yours. Okay, so let's go into your reflections. First is a silent name test, right? I want you to close your eyes and ask yourself what's the name I would never want spoken aloud. That's the name that's still carrying powder. Okay, now ask is it even true? And who gave it to me? I know it's going to be hard, but you got to ask yourself those two questions.
Speaker 1:Okay, now, number two reflections aren't truth. See, mirrors show light bouncing back, right, that means they're only giving you surface. Just because something looks like it doesn't looks like you, I should say doesn't mean it is you right. So just remember that. Now. Reclaim your true name. I want you to write down the earliest name someone called you that made you feel seen, not used, not defined, but seen. That's our breadcrumb. Okay, follow it. Now speak what you're not.
Speaker 1:Sometimes the fastest way to clarity is by subtraction. List five things you're not. Let that list burn A clear space for truth to rise. Last but not least, stay unnamed until you're ready. You don't have to rush into becoming something okay. The world loves labels, but sometimes the most powerful thing you can say is I'm not bad anymore and leave the rest blank until you're ready to write for yourself you are not what they called you. You are not what they labeled you. You are not what you believed. When you're hurting and small, you are what you choose next and the next relic awaits, so take my hand and let's find this together. Yeah, this was a deep one, guys. This is a deep series, but you know, this was something I fought with for a long time and I lost myself for a while as I was going through this. Right, and I think we all do that at some point, because we try to live up to other people's expectations and other people's names for us expectations and other people's names for us, and realistically, you got to live up to who you are and live for yourself and no one else. That's really what this all is.
Speaker 1:I just want to thank you guys for listening. I really do. I can't tell you how much it means to me. I know this is almost an hour, so I'll be quick. Just thank you from the bottom of my heart and if you want to get a hold of me, I'll make this quick so I don't run out of time. There's three ways. First way is through the description of this podcast. You can click on let's Chat and you and I can have a conversation. Second way is going to be through my email. My email is anthonyatgentsjourneycom. And, last but not least, you can go to my Instagram. My Instagram handle is mygentsjourney. So again, thank you so much for listening today. And remember this you create your reality, take care.