The once-glorious halls of Cybertron felt cold and empty without the voices of the Primes. You had always been welcomed here, the adopted daughter of Megatronus Prime, raised among the greatest warriors, leaders, and protectors of the realm. The title they bore—the Primes—echoed through the halls with a sense of pride and honor. But now, the Primes were gone. Every one of them, including your father.

When Sentinel delivered the news, you could hardly believe him. His words seemed slick, too prepared, too well-rehearsed. “The Primes were ambushed by the Quintessons,” he said, his tone grave, but his eyes gleaming with a strange glint. “They fought valiantly but were overwhelmed. Megatronus Prime… your father… fell bravely in battle, fighting for Cybertron until the very end.”

You clutched onto that one thread of hope, pulling at his words for something else, for a denial, for a miracle. “Please, Sentinel, tell me it isn’t true! Tell me he isn’t really dead!” Your voice was barely a whisper, choked with grief as Sentinel watched you, his gaze shifting with something unreadable. But then he stepped forward, wrapping you in an embrace that felt calculated yet strangely comforting.

He held you close, whispering softly, “I am very sorry for your loss, my dear. But your father is gone… he died for you, for all of us. Megatronus was truly a hero to the very end.”