The Obsidian Vault loomed ahead like a jagged tooth in space, an asteroid so utterly black it swallowed every star around it. No light reflected off its surface. No signal bounced back from its dense skin. Even their ship's scanners struggled to read its structure as if the Vault refused to exist by any known measure. When the Echoes had first mentioned it, they warned that the Vault was not a place but an experience—one where sound died, and memory bled.
"This is it," Namjoon said quietly, standing at the helm as the ship slowed to hover. "The Vault."
No one responded. Even inside the ship, where artificial sound persisted, there was pressure in the air, like a silent weight that discouraged speech. The closer they drifted, the more muted everything became. Footsteps were muffled, and breathing felt thick.
Taehyung narrowed his eyes at the viewport. "Why does it feel like it's staring back?"
"It might be," said Yoongi, fingers hovering over the console. "Or it could be our echoes, reflected in ways we're not used to."
Jin, who had been silent for much of the journey, finally spoke. "Let's not waste time. The relic's inside. That's what matters."
They suited up, though there was no atmosphere outside, and approached the Vault in formation. Lyra accompanied them, her presence calm and sharp as always, though she now kept a certain distance from the group. Since her warning about herself, they treated her with cautious trust, the kind given to someone holding a burning match near gasoline.
As they stepped through the entrance, a crevice so narrow they had to turn sideways, their comms cut out.
Not with static. Not with distortion. Just gone.
Jungkook tapped his earpiece. "Comms down," he mouthed, but no one heard him. His voice didn't carry. He tried to clap. Nothing. No echo. No sound at all.
Inside the Vault, sound ceased to exist.
They used hand signals to continue, moving deeper into the asteroid's hollow interior. It was a labyrinth of obsidian tunnels, sharp turns, and reflective black surfaces that warped their reflections. Each step absorbed vibration. Even their boots made no noise.
As they walked, the darkness became more than a visual. It grew into a presence, pulling memories, whispering regrets, and showing glimpses of failures never spoken aloud.
Namjoon saw a child version of himself sitting alone on the steps of his first school, watching others play. A silent version of his mother walked past without acknowledging him.
Yoongi turned and froze as he caught sight of his brother, the one he couldn't save from the car crash that had taken him so long ago. The figure stood in the tunnel, head lowered, unmoving.
Taehyung touched the wall and recoiled when it shimmered into an image of him standing alone on a stage. There were no fans, no cheers, just empty seats. His voice cracked in his throat, though no one heard it, and he stumbled.
Jimin clutched his chest. He saw himself laughing with the members on a couch in a green room, then watched the image flicker and dissolve into dust. He tried to shout, to reach them, but they faded.
The group began to fragment, pulled apart by their visions. The Vault had no gravity, yet it felt like sinking.
Then came the distortions.
Distorted versions of themselves appeared in the mirrors—smiling with too many teeth, eyes empty, moving in glitching patterns. Jungkook's double reached out with jerking hands. Hoseok's reflection grinned while crying blood. The images mocked them in complete silence, their mouths moving in cruel mimicry.
Jin stood in the center of a chamber, surrounded by images of the others—broken, gone, consumed. And among them was himself, alone and untouched. A survivor. The only one left. Again.
"No," he tried to say, fists clenched. "Not again."
His voice didn't work. But he began to sing.
At first, it was inaudible even to him. But he could feel it. A hum, deep in his chest. Not air moving, vibration. Resonance.
He thought of the first time they stood on stage. The nervousness, the exhilaration. The shared breath. The harmony they built from nothing but dreams and raw hope. He let that memory fill him and sang louder.
The sound didn't carry, but the vibration did. Through his body. Into the ground.
Namjoon felt something in his ribs and looked up. Jin was singing.
It shouldn't have worked.
But it did.
Namjoon placed a hand on his heart and began to sing, too. It was a low note, grounding. He didn't need to hear it to know it mattered.
Yoongi stepped forward, his voice rough and soft, layering on top.
Taehyung wiped his eyes and joined.
Jimin reached for Jungkook's hand and squeezed it. Together, they added their voices.
Hoseok closed his eyes and let his body move in time with the rhythm, letting motion carry the sound where words could not.
One by one, the illusions cracked.
The dark versions shuddered. The mirrored regrets broke apart like ice under pressure.
Light bloomed—faint, golden. It came from the cracks in the walls. From their chests. From the Vault itself, responding to their unity.
The central chamber lit up slowly, revealing a pedestal at its heart. Upon it lay a small object: a dark silver bell, perfectly smooth, but pulsing faintly with light like a heartbeat.
The Pulse Bell.
Jin approached, and the pedestal did not resist him. He lifted it gently, and as he did, sound returned.
Not in a sudden rush, but like a wave approaching from far off—subtle, growing.
Their breathing became audible again.
Then the tremor of their footsteps.
Then the Bell itself, which chimed once, soft and clear, though no one struck it.
Lyra stepped forward, pale and silent. "The Vault chose you," she said.
Jin exhaled. "No. We chose each other."
As they walked back through the tunnels, now lit faintly by the Pulse Bell's resonance, the shadows fled. The illusions no longer followed.
When they emerged into the open vacuum of space, their comms reconnected.
"Are we good?" asked Jungkook, his voice crackling.
"We're better than good," Jimin said, smiling. "We're still us."
Namjoon looked down at the Bell, now resting in Jin's arms. "Two relics down. And one step closer to the Song of Origin."
Yoongi frowned at the Vault behind them. "And one more place that tried to bury our voices. But we're still singing."
Jin glanced back one last time.
For the first time, the Vault reflected a star. Just one. But it was enough.