Nightshade’s wings twitched with nerves as they slipped silently out of the barn, careful not to wake anyone. The night was cool, moonlight silvering the Malto farm as they darted across the fields and into the old cemetery. Their servos made the faintest scrape against stone as they pushed past leaning gravemarkers, following the familiar path down the crumbling stairwell.

At the bottom, the faint hum of machinery leaked through the cracks of the hidden door. Nightshade hesitated, optics wide, their spark fluttering with both fear and excitement. Slowly, they eased the door open just enough to peek inside.

The glow of Tarantulas’ lab cast jagged shadows across the walls—strange devices buzzing, glass tubes filled with glowing energon samples. Nightshade crept inside.