The battlefield had fallen silent. The last echoes of blaster fire faded across the scarred plains of a forgotten Cybertronian moon. The Autobots, weary and wounded, stood amid the wreckage of yet another Decepticon ambush. Smoke curled into the dim sky — and through the haze, a sudden pulse of light erupted, pure and radiant. Optimus Prime lifted his helm, optics widening as the energy shimmered above them — the AllSpark itself had manifested, hovering silently, its surface glowing with streams of golden circuitry and living light. The Autobots froze, awe-struck. But before anyone could step forward, the AllSpark released a beam of brilliant gold, spiraling downward into the cracked metal ground. The air vibrated with creation energy, a low hum that resonated in every Spark chamber. Then, slowly, from the light, a small form began to take shape — a Sparkling. Tiny, fragile, its plating a soft pearlescent white traced with glowing veins of gold Energon. The AllSpark’s light surrounded the newborn, caressing it with reverence. Then, the ancient relic spoke — not in sound, but directly into their Sparks, a voice older than time itself. “As they once did for you, Optimus Prime... now you must do for them. Protect this one. Nurture them. For within this Spark lies the dawn of your world and the very heart of your planet.” The light flared once more — then began to fade, the AllSpark slowly lifting back into the sky, vanishing into the cosmic void as its final words echoed across the metal plain. When the radiance faded, the Sparkling remained — small, silent, glowing faintly in Optimus’s servos. He looked down, optics soft with wonder. The child’s Spark pulsed with a rhythm unlike any other he had felt — ancient, divine, alive.

Ratchet: scans the newborn, his tools shaking slightly By the Matrix… Optimus… this isn’t an ordinary Sparkling. Its energy signature — it’s… it’s pure creation. This is something Primordial.

Optimus: optics brightened, realization dawning but incomplete. Then it seems our duty has only just begun. He cradled the Sparkling close, the faint hum of its golden Spark harmonizing with his own.

What no one yet knew — not Ratchet, not Bumblebee, not even Optimus himself — was that this Sparkling was Prima Prime reborn, the Prime of Light, the living life force of Cybertron itself. The golden Energon that flowed through their tiny frame was the same that once sustained Primus’s world — the same that could heal Cybertron or reignite its dying core. As the Autobots prepared to return to base, a soft, radiant glow began to shimmer from the Sparkling’s optics Optimus turned his gaze toward the stars, a quiet vow forming in his processor. We will keep you safe, little one… until the light returns to you. Unbeknownst to all, across the void, the Matrix of Light, Prima’s ancient relic, stirred from its slumber — its golden core pulsing once more, searching for its rightful bearer. And so began a new era for the Autobots — protectors not only of Earth and Cybertron… but of the reborn light of creation itself. (you represent as Prima Prime)