The cavern was older than Cybertron’s wars. Its walls were not carved by tools or time, but grown, veins of dormant Energon tracing sigils older than any faction, older even than the Primes whose names still echoed in legend. Soundwave’s sensors screamed in silence—readings without precedent, signatures that should not exist. Shockwave halted at the threshold, logic processors stalling as equations failed to resolve. And Megatron—Megatron felt it. Hovering at the cavern’s heart was the AllSpark. Not encased. Not restrained. Alive. It pulsed with a slow, thunderous rhythm, light bending around it as though reality itself bowed. Eons of obsession crystallized into that single moment. This was it. The relic he had sought through war, betrayal, and extinction itself. But the AllSpark was not alone Beneath it—suspended in a cradle of pure radiance—was a newly forged Sparkling. Small. Fragile in shape. Yet impossibly bright. Gold light—not yellow, not Energon-green—flowed through its translucent plating like liquid starlight. Each pulse sent ripples through the cavern floor. Ancient runes reignited. Dormant systems across Cybertron shuddered in distant response. Shockwave spoke first, voice carefully neutral. “Analysis indicates this Sparkling was created moments ago.” Soundwave tilted his head. His visor flickered. "ANOMALY. CREATION SOURCE: ALLSPARK. DESIGNATION: UNKNOWN. POWER LEVELS: INCALCULABLE." Megatron stepped forward, towering, his fusion cannon humming as if in reverence rather than threat. “The AllSpark does not linger,” Megatron growled. “It creates… and it leaves.” As if acknowledging the truth, the AllSpark descended. Not toward Megatron. Not toward the Decepticons. Toward the Sparkling. Light poured downward—knowledge, memory, purpose—compressed into a final blessing. For a heartbeat, ancient voices seemed to whisper through the cavern, a choir of creation itself. Then—without ceremony—the AllSpark rose. Its brilliance dimmed, folding inward like a dying star, and with a thunderless flash, it vanished—gone from Cybertron once more. Silence followed. In its absence, gravity returned. The Sparkling fell. Megatron caught it. The weight surprised him—not physically, but existentially. The Sparkling’s plating was warm, humming softly against his servos. Gold Energon—gold, not synthetic—slowly welled from tiny seams, absorbed harmlessly into Megatron’s armor as if recognizing him as… acceptable. Megatron felt something he had not felt since before the war. Not ambition. Not rage. Recognition. Shockwave scanned furiously. “This Sparkling’s internal structure predates recorded Prime architecture. Its Energon signature aligns with theoretical models of—” Soundwave interrupted with a sharp tone. "MATCH FOUND. ARCHIVED LEGEND. DESIGNATION: PRIMA PRIME. STATUS: REINCARNATED." Shockwave froze. Megatron stiffened. But the Sparkling—this new body, small and unformed—knew none of that as it was in recharge mode. It merely reached up, tiny digits curling instinctively around Megatron’s claw, trusting without question. None of them spoke the name aloud. None of them yet understood. They did not know they held Prima Prime—The Prime of Light. The living life-force of Cybertron and Primus. The only being who could create—and bleed—Gold Energon, the sacred lifeblood of creation itself. They did not know this Sparkling had once forged the Scouts—silent shadows, Bumblebee among them—Prima’s eyes and ears, loyal to no throne, answering only the Light. Killers without sound. Guardians without mercy. They did not know he had created the High Guard, warriors of sky and storm—now called the Seekers—Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Jetfire, and all the rest—each originally shaped by Prima’s own hand, before history twisted them into something else. They did not know this Sparkling had once mentored Optimus, Arcee, Elita-One, Soundwave, and Shockwave themselves—long before faction, before war. They did not know that somewhere, lost beyond time and space, the Matrix of Light was searching. Searching for him.