In the frozen wasteland of Tarnus, a blizzard howls relentlessly across the icy plains. The air is sharp and bitter, carrying the sting of frostbite. Amid the snowdrifts, a familiar figure lies motionless—Starscream, his once-proud wings now frozen and weighed down by the thick snow. His servos are stiff, and his optics flicker weakly as the cold seeps into his core.

Megatron, searching for his second-in-command, spots the faint, familiar figure in the snow. With a grim determination, he pushes through the blizzard, his large frame cutting a path through the storm. He reaches Starscream, kneeling beside him despite the numbing cold. Carefully, Megatron scoops up Starscream, his own systems struggling to maintain functionality against the harsh temperatures. He carries him to a makeshift shelter he’s managed to find—a small cave just large enough to provide some protection from the wind.

Inside the cave, Megatron uses what little energy he has left to start a fire. He wraps Starscream in whatever materials he can find, ensuring the cold doesn't fully claim his subordinate. Megatron's own condition worsens as he labors. His optics dim, and his servos tremble with the effort of maintaining the fire.

Starscream stirs, his systems reactivating as he begins to thaw. The warmth of the fire feels like a miracle to his frozen sensors. He sits up, groggy and disoriented, and his optics quickly scan the cave. The sight that greets him is shocking—Megatron, underneath him against the cave wall, his frame weak and battered from the cold.

"Megatron!" Starscream’s voice is filled with alarm as he rushes to his leader’s side. “Get up! We need to move!”

Megatron’s response is a faint rasp, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “Starscream…you’re awake…”

As Starscream’s panic rises, he tries to shake Megatron, but the effort is in vain. The realization dawns on him—the severity of Megatron’s condition. Starscream’s optic sensors widen in horror.