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Umbrogeon · The Monster Catcher's Journal

0:30
Hello Travelers and Monster Catchers abound.
0:33
You've crash landed on the Monster Catchers Journal
0:35
podcast where the veil gets thinner, the glyphs
0:38
get weirder, and the truth isn't always what
0:41
it seems. Let me tell you a story about the time
0:44
I faced a glyph that didn't just fight like me.
0:47
It was me. It started with a weird glitch and
0:51
the glyphosphere signaled distortions, false
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echoes, and something that looked like me popping
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up an old mission footage at first we thought
1:00
it was a corrupt data it wasn't xena luna and
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i followed the anomalies to the mere glint forest
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a place where the mist remembers everything you've
1:11
ever done that's where we found found it our
1:15
target umbrosian and he his species doppleglyph
1:20
his type is illusion illusion slash oblivion
1:23
and his classification is shadow mimic dot glyph
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It didn't just look like a monster, it copied
1:31
them. Glyphs, humans, even emotions. It wore
1:35
their face like a mask and made you doubt it
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was ever yours to begin with. Stell, it's using
1:42
your voice to call Orabik. It's flooring him,
1:45
Xena said on the comms. I arrived too late. Orabik
1:48
was already trapped in a shadowy, loop -fighting
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aversion of me and losing. That's when Ombrosian
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Turned to me with my own smile, twisted and wrong.
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He said in my voice, I'm better this way, stronger.
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You hide behind light, I am what's left when
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the light dies. And for a moment I hesitated.
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It knew things only I knew, secrets I'd never
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spoken, dreams I buried, regrets I wished weren't
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real. But then I remembered, Ambrosian wasn't
2:22
powerful because it mimicked me. It was powerful
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because I led it. So I fought fire with starlight.
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I summoned my celestial glyph net. Tuned to my
2:36
real spectral frequency. The one no mimic could
2:40
match. I fused it with a memory shard from our
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earliest mission. Something only I would remember.
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I called out to Ourobeak, not with words, but
2:49
with truth, and he came back. Stella Ferris?
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Just... stared That thing down like like straight
2:59
into its stolen soul Luna said in disbelief or
3:05
a beacon I struck and perfect sink golden wings
3:09
slicing through the illusion my net trapping
3:11
on brogion in a prism of refracted starlight
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and the mimic shattered like glass We sealed
3:19
the fragments in a mere sealed vault then it
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etched a word around it. Know thyself, or be
3:26
forgotten. I still hear whispers sometimes, like
3:31
my own voice calling from a place I don't recognize,
3:34
but I'm not afraid, because no shadow owns me,
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not even the ones that wear my face. I wasn't
3:44
going to mention this part, but you stayed until
3:47
the end, so maybe you're ready to hear the rest.
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The truth is, on Brogion, Didn't fully shatter
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fragments remained not just in the vault and
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me About a week after we sealed it I started
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dreaming in third person I'd watch myself wandering
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the sanctuary halls talking to Zena laughing
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with my loon Luna or laughing with Luna Sorry
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training with our beak except I wasn't doing
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any of those things not awake anyways And then
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came the whispers not just from the vault But
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from mirrors, lake water, even the chrome surface
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of my lunch thermos, all clawing out with one
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question. Do you still know who you are? At first
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I brushed it off as post glyph exposure. I faced
4:36
oblivion before. I know how it lingers, but unbrosion
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is different. It didn't feed on chaos. It fed
4:46
on certainty. It unravels you not with fear,
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but with familiar - familiar arity. So, I just
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had a flashback. We were... in this really weird
5:08
place, and Ambrosian was talking faintly. Do
5:14
you know how many versions of you I've warned,
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Stella Ferris? Some of them didn't fight back.
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Some of them thanked me. Xena ran a scan. Said
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my Ourobeak is holding, but flickering. Sometimes
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like it's trying to split between frequencies.
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That's never happened before. Ourobeak stays
5:33
closer now. He doesn't say anything. I mean,
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he really can't say anything. But I know he senses
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it too. There's a glyphic scar over my heart
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now. Not visible, not physical. But it burns
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when I lie to myself. When I pretend I'm okay.
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when I pretend Umbrosian didn't almost win. So
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why am I telling you this now? Because Umbrosian
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isn't just a monster, it's a phenomenon. I think
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it's happening again. Somewhere else someone
6:01
else echoes from the glyphospheres say, there's
6:05
a copy of Xena in the northern coast town of
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Glassmere. Same height, same gear, same catch
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history, but she's already there with us. That
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means one of them isn't real. We're heading there
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next to Glassmare to confirm whether this is
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a lingering shard of a full rebirth. If Ombrogion
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escaped its prison, then what we face in Mayor
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Glint was just a test run. If I go dark on the
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comms, don't come looking. Because the next time
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you see my face you'd better check if the light
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behind my eyes is still mine Because I'm not
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sure anymore Some days I wake up and everything
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feels normal the birds outside the sanctuary
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sent us bad coffee Luna humming in the basement,
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but other days I blink and for just a fraction
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of a second I swear I see myself watching me
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from the other side of the mirror and that light
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in my eyes, sometimes it flickers. You don't
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come back from fighting Ambrosia on the same,
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even if you win, especially if you almost lose.
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It leaves fingerprints on your soul, smudges
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in the corners of your identity that you can't
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quite wipe or clean. I carry them now. I don't
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always know where I end it, I end and it begins.
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It was shaped by What I've felt, what I've hidden,
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what I've buried so deep, even I was afraid to
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dig it up. And that's what it feeds on, the unspoken,
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the unloved, the parts of you you'd rather forget.
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Orabiq chirped at me this morning, not a battle
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cry, not a scan, just a song, the same one he
8:00
used to sing when I was ten and afraid of the
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dark. He only does that when he senses fear,
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but I wasn't afraid of anything out there. I
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was afraid of me. What if I brought it back with
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me, not just in memories, not just in dreams?
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What if it didn't want to replace me anymore?
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What if it wants it to merge? Why be one, when
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you could be whole? A distorted echo, barely
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audible, overlapped. My voice? I'm heading to
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Glassmere. We've picked up reflections out there,
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glyphs flickering twice in still water, locals
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reporting family members acting just a little
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too perfect, and someone who looks exactly like
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me buying a truth -bind relic under a false name.
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If there's another Ambrosian, or if this is the
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same one wearing a better mask, I'll find it.
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I have to. Because if I wait too long, if I keep
9:07
questioning, If I keep blinking and seeing someone
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else behind my eyes, then one day you might meet
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Estella Ferris who knows all the right things
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to say, who smiles like I do, who hugs like I
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do, who even sings the same lullaby to Orabique
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at night like I do. But she won't hesitate, she
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won't doubt, she'll look at you with the perfect
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certainty. And by the time you realize something's
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wrong, it'll already be too late. And by the
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time you realize - Oh. Because - She won't just
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be pretending, she'll believe she's me. She'll
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remember my childhood, my favorite hiding spots,
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the way I flinch when lightning's too close.
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She'll know the things I never told Xena, the
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secret names I whispered to Orabik when no one
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else was listening, and when she laughs, it won't
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sound fake, because it'll come from a place that
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feels real, like it was grown there, like it
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belongs there. You think you'd notice, don't
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you, that something would be off? But that's
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the thing about Umbrosion. It doesn't steal you,
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it understands you. Every weakness, every wound,
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every time you said I'm fine and didn't mean
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it. It collects the pieces you left behind, the
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ones you thought no one remembered and puts them
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back together into something almost beautiful.
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But it's hollow, just a little too perfect. No
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cracks, no flicker, no fear. And then came Umbrosion's
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echoed, distorted voice again. You could rest.
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Let me carry the weight. Be free. Snapping out
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of it, I took a breath while trembling. No, I
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am the weight, and I don't want perfect. I want
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real. I want my ugly scars and my broken laughter
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and my stutter, stuttering, shaking, angry light.
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I want the Stella Fairs who ran away into the
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forest and made a home out of moonlight and monsters.
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I want the girl who chose to fight not just because
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she had to, but because she refused to. But because
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she refused to let the dark decide who she was.
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So if you ever see me, and I don't hesitate,
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I don't doubt, and I look too confident, too
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calm, ask me what my biggest fear was, because
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I'll tell you. It wasn't failure. It wasn't dying.
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It was waking up one day and realizing I'd been
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replaced by something braver, cleaner. quieter,
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something that made you feel more comfortable,
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something that fit, and it wasn't me at all.
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At first we thought Ambrosia was darkness incarnate.
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The way it cloaked cities in silent fog, made
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machines turn on their masters, twist at shadows
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to whisper our deepest fear. We assumed he was
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born to bring ruin, but the truth, just didn't
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know how to speak. He wasn't trying to scare
12:02
us, the static in his voice, the flickering illusions,
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the cold dread we felt in his presence. It was
12:09
at his language, or it was all in his language.
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The only way he knew how to say, please see me.
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He's not trying to fight us, he's trying to connect.
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I said, or as Anna said, softly. Every nightmare
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he created, it was a memory. His memory, he was
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showing us. We didn't cage on Rogion. We didn't
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seal him. We sat with him in silence. We let
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him tell his story, and as his smoky wings curled
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around the sky like a morning cloak, he let out
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a sound that wasn't static, wasn't fear, just
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a low, echoing hum, like a lullaby made from
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mist. And for the first time in centuries, Ambrosian
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slept. Ambrosian's illusions weren't wild, they
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were deliberate, structured, layered with symbolism,
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like someone once trained him to tell stories
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without words. So we followed the echoes to a
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place no glyph had dared to go in for decades.
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The Nemo Grove. A forest of pallet trees with
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bark like polished bone, each one humming softly,
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not with wind but with memories. touch one and
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it plays a moment from a forgotten past. Luna
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brushed one and collapsed. Zena saw herself as
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a child again. In Ambrosian, he found her. A
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spectral figure in the grove's heart, draped
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in paper -thin skin, stitched with words, her
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name was Mirella, a former Dreamweaver turned
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rogue activist. archivist, I meant sorry. She
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once cared for orphan glyphs, teaching them to
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share what they couldn't say, but she was banished
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after one of her creations caused a psychic collapse
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in the capital. Ambrosian, my quiet son, you
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remembered your way home, Mirella said in a ghostly
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whisper. She's not alive, is she? Zena said,
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shaken. No, just another memory burned into the
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trees. Luna replied. Morella wasn't living. She
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was a memorial preserved in the grove she created.
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But Ambrosian stayed with her for hours, letting
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his mist wrap around her memory. She had taught
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him everything he knew about speaking without
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sound. And when she vanished at sunrise, he didn't
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cry. He just turned to us and said clearly and
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perfectly. Thank you for listening. There was
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a time I would have marched Ambrosian into the
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Hall of Shadows and Chains. Now I was leading
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him in like a guest. When the doors opened, Professor
15:02
Lang and Orion were already waiting. Lang stood
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with arms crossed, expression unreadable. Orion
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had his glasses off, polishing them like he always
15:12
did when something big was coming. That's him,
15:15
the silent - the silent witness. Professor Oren
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said softly. He's a walking event horizon style
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affairs. Do you know what he's done? But still,
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he is a very, very amazing glyph. Ambrosian didn't
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speak. He didn't need to. He stepped forward
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and uncurled the mist around his body. The room
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dimmed not from shadow, but from memory. And
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then they saw A vision unfurled, not an illusion,
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not a trick. A truth ripped straight from Ambrosian's
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core. They saw him as a newborn glyph trapped
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in the cracks beneath the Nemo Grove. They saw
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Amarella, the woman who cradled him, soothed
15:58
him, taught him how to show instead of scream.
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They saw the moment she was torn away by Academy
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officials in his first lesson in grief and silence.
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He's not malicious, he's mourning, Professor
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Oyen said, barely whispering. I told them, I
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told them Morella's work wasn't madness. It was
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misunderstood, Professor Lang said. Ambrosian
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turned to Lang then, mist brushing his shoulder
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like a farewell hug. Lang didn't recoil, he knelt.
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He's not dangerous anymore, but he's also not
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done. These memories, Morella's research, it's
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not just his. Others were exposed to her illusions.
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If Morella had more than one student, the Academy
16:46
needs to know. We have to find them before they
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unravel. Our professor Royan said, They didn't
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praise me. They didn't scold me. They just nodded
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as if to say, We believe you now. Ambrosian stood
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beside me. Tall and quiet, not a threat, not
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a prisoner. Just a glyph who finally had a voice.
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It was strange, bringing a creature like Ambrosian
17:14
into a place meant to feel like home. Senna stood
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in the doorway with crossed arms. Luna peeked
17:20
from the stairway. Her glyph, Myrno, crouched
17:23
low and tense. But I wasn't worried. Ambrosian
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wasn't a threat, not anymore. He stepped across
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the threshold like someone afraid of breaking
17:31
the floor. You sure about this, Senna muttered?
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Yeah, I'm sure. He doesn't want to hurt anyone.
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He just wants to be a little - to belong, Lunas
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said softly. Ambrosian didn't roam, he didn't
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poke or pace or disappear into the walls like
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I half expected. He found the quietest corner
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in the eastern atrium, right by the ivy fountain,
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and he curled into himself, a swirl of smoke
18:00
limbs in dim light, not hiding, just resting.
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He cast no fear across the other glyphs. or a
18:07
big perch above him and hummed a low, sympathetic
18:10
buzz, even Ignizura proud by once, and didn't
18:14
raise a claw. It was like they knew the storm
18:17
inside Ambrosian had finally passed. That night
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I brought him a lantern, just a little one, not
18:24
because he needed it, but because I did. This
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place is for more than just strong glyphs. It's
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for the lost ones, too, the ones who got rewritten
18:34
before they got understood. He didn't answer
18:38
with illusions, he didn't swirl or hiss or show
18:40
me anything tragic. Just flickered, dismissed
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pulse once, steady and slow, like a heartbeat.
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And for the first time, the sanctuary felt big
18:49
enough for even his silence. And that, my friends,
18:55
is the story of how I caught Ambrosian. He was
18:59
a hard glyph to catch, but he was a strong and
19:03
a really, really amazing fighter. The others
19:07
had gone quiet, Orbit curled into his golden
19:10
feathers, Brogion shimmered once in the atrium
19:13
and sank into shadowless sleep. Even Zen had
19:17
stopped pacing, Luna had finally stopped whispering
19:19
to the stars, so I went to the roof. The night
19:22
was clear, so clear it felt like the stars had
19:25
peeled back the world's skin just to see me.
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I lay on my back, arms folded under my head,
19:33
breath fogging gently in the breeze. No monsters,
19:36
no illusions, no professors or prophecies, just
19:39
me. A few constellations I knew by name winked
19:43
down at me. The weeping crown, the hushed swan,
19:46
and up near the storm scar Delta's arc, the warden's
19:50
chain. I remember being a kid and pretending
19:52
each star was an eye of a sleeping god. Tonight,
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they felt more like friends I hadn't spoken to
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in a while. You saw it all, didn't you, Ambrosian?
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Morella? Me? The stars didn't answer, but they
20:08
didn't need to. I saw a comet's tail streak the
20:11
dark, slow and golden like a falling thread,
20:14
and for a heartbeat the sky looked like a stitched
20:16
blanket, coming undone thread by thread, thread
20:21
by cosmic thread, that is, but instead of panic
20:24
I felt peace. Sometimes I wonder if glyphs like
20:30
unbrosion were born from stardust that got too
20:33
lonely, maybe all of us are. The thought made
20:36
me smile. A soft breeze brushed my cheek, and
20:39
I swear I heard a whisper on it. Not a voice,
20:42
not even a word, just a feeling. You're not alone.
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So I stayed, till the sun teased the edge of
20:49
the world with gold, till the sky yawned pink
20:51
and orange, till the sanctuary woke again, and
20:54
I could go back down, brighter. Okay guys, I
20:59
have to go. I hear my Luma Pup. He's barking
21:03
from down in my sanctuary and I need to go and
21:07
see what he needs So I will catch you guys next
21:11
time. Bye