The night after their secret concert, TNG gathers in their quiet living room, the city lights painting shadows on the walls. The weight of the Composer's words hangs heavy in the air. They know this isn't just about music anymore. It's about the very essence of who they are.
Sae digs into old archives, searching for any clue about the Composer's identity. What she finds is shocking—a fragmented journal belonging to Gigiana Layne Owens, the original Glo. The journal speaks of a force called the Composer, described not as a person, but as the primal voice behind all creation and destruction of light and sound.
The Composer was once part of Glo herself—a core of power so pure it could remake reality with a single note. But something shattered that harmony, and the Composer was cast into silence.
Now, the Composer is back, seeking to reclaim control over the flow of light and music, bending it to a will that could either create a new dawn or erase everything they've fought for.
Determined to stop this, TNG decides to journey to the place where Glo was first born—an ancient temple deep in the mountains of Shirakawa Village. It's said that only by facing the origin of the light can they hope to confront the Composer.
As they prepare for the journey, Luna confesses her fears aloud. "What if this time… we lose more than just our glow?"
Zaya grips her hand firmly. "We're not alone. We never were."
With the last note of their newest song lingering in the air, TNG steps into the night, ready to face the final verses of their story—and the silence that waits beyond.
The mountain air in Shirakawa is colder than they expected—still, quiet, and almost too perfect. Snow falls in slow motion, as if time itself is hesitating.
TNG hikes through the forest trail marked only by faded carvings and half-buried stones. At the edge of the path stands a torii gate draped in torn red cloth, whispering as the wind moves. Beyond it lies the Temple of First Sound—the birthplace of Glo's light.
The moment they step inside, the world around them shifts.
They're no longer together.
Each girl finds herself in a different room, trapped in a vision crafted from their deepest insecurities.
Zaya relives every failure, surrounded by phantom fans and distant voices chanting that she was never strong enough to lead.
Rin is forced to walk through corridors of mirrors showing versions of herself that are colder, crueler, better—reflections of who she might've been if she let power change her.
Minji is on a stage with no audience, singing over and over as the sound echoes back empty—fame without meaning.
Sae sits in a room made of numbers and circuits, where every part of her life is calculated—but she's missing. A ghost in her own design.
Luna is alone in a silent void, surrounded by people she's healed—each one staring at her blankly, unable to remember who she is.
The Composer speaks to each of them in a soft voice:
"You don't understand the weight of being Glo. You hold power meant to be perfect. You are flawed. You will break."
But something happens the Composer didn't expect.
They start singing.
Individually, off-key, afraid.
Then together—across their separate prisons—notes begin to collide, to rise, to harmonize.
Their voices bleed through space.
One by one, they break free of the illusions.
They find each other in the temple's heart—surrounded by golden relics and a massive glowing orb pulsing with the original Glo.
The Composer appears in its true form—neither man nor woman, neither light nor dark.
A being of sound and silence.
"You should not exist," it says.
Zaya steps forward, voice shaking but sure.
"We shouldn't. But we do. And that's what makes our glow real."
The Composer raises a hand.
A final test begins.