The Rhythmic Star hovered just outside the atmosphere of a dying moon, its hull reflecting the silent shimmer of distant stars. Inside the ship's central chamber, the air was heavy with decision. No one spoke for a while. They all stood around the console where the map Cadence had embedded into Taehyung's mind was now fully projected—glowing lines spiraling across the galaxy, each point pulsating like the beat of a forgotten song.
Jungkook leaned against the wall, arms crossed but eyes watching every flicker of light. Hoseok sat nearby, leg still wrapped from the injury, but determination back in his gaze. Jin, fully recovered and luminous with focus, studied the pattern of routes.
Yoongi's fingers tapped a soft rhythm on the table. He did not look up, but his presence, quiet and constant, was grounding them all. Jimin stood beside Taehyung, one hand resting on his shoulder as the projection glowed over both their faces. Namjoon stood in the center, facing his team.
"I think we all know," Namjoon said quietly, "there is no more running."
No one interrupted.
Namjoon continued, "Everywhere we go, people feel something. They hear us and they remember. They cry. They wake up. Even those trying to silence us… something stirs in them."
He looked around the room, making eye contact with each member.
"I'm done hiding. And I know you are too."
Jin nodded. "We were never meant to stay quiet."
"Let them come," Jungkook said. "Let them try to stop us. They'll only hear us louder."
Hoseok chuckled, wincing slightly. "The louder we get, the more they feel. That's what they're afraid of."
Yoongi finally looked up. "What they fear… is not us. It's what we unlock in others. The truth inside silence."
Jimin whispered, "And that's exactly why we have to sing."
Taehyung tilted his head. "Then let's say it clearly. Right now."
Namjoon turned toward the main console and typed in a command. The ship's internal system responded, broadcasting their message across all shortwave rebel channels, encrypted but destined to leak.
The hologram projection flickered, and a simple message appeared in bold, pulsing letters.
We are BTS. We are not afraid.
Namjoon took a breath and began recording the voice message that would accompany it.
"To the Federation… to the Council of Silence… to every listener hiding a song in their chest… we are done running."
He paused, then gestured for the others to join him. One by one, they stepped forward.
"We remember who we are," Jin said clearly.
"We remember what music feels like," added Hoseok.
"It made us," Jimin said.
"It saved us," whispered Taehyung.
"It gave us the power to reach you," Jungkook said, eyes burning.
"It is the sound of truth," Yoongi said.
Namjoon nodded. "We are BTS. And our sound will echo through every corner of the galaxy."
With that, Taehyung placed his hand back over the map control. A series of soft tones vibrated from the table, and the map shifted. One glowing point blinked brighter than the others. A pale blue moon at the edge of the forgotten systems, far from trade routes, marked with a single name.
Lyris. The Moon of Echoes.
Jin leaned forward. "That's the first Relic site. The map Cadence left us… it points there."
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. "This is not going to be a quiet visit."
Namjoon smirked. "We're not exactly known for being quiet anymore."
As the coordinates locked in, the ship's engines hummed to life. A new energy filled the room. They had a direction now. A purpose.
Back on a distant Federation-controlled planet, in the depths of a Council surveillance chamber, a screen flickered to life. A figure sat alone in a dark room, shadows hiding most of her features. Her gloved hands trembled slightly as she leaned forward.
Lyra watched the broadcast. No helmet. No armor. Just her, stripped of titles and masks.
The faces on the screen were clear. Their voices, raw and honest, pierced through every layer of programming that still clung to her mind like chains. Something in her chest twisted. Her breath hitched.
The words repeated.
We are BTS. We are not afraid.
She clutched the edge of the console, trembling. And then, silently, a tear rolled down her cheek.
She did not understand everything. Not yet. But she felt it. The fracture. The shift. And deep inside, buried beneath protocols and commands, a melody began to stir. Faint, but unmistakably hers. She wiped her face quickly, eyes fixed on the screen.
"They're coming," she whispered.
But she did not say it like a warning. She said it like a promise.