Orion found himself standing at the door of Megatronus’ private quarters. He hesitated, datapad clutched against his chest as though it were a shield. He told himself he was only here because Megatronus still had some of his notes stored in this room—yes, that was the reason. Not because some restless, unspoken pull kept guiding him back.

The door opened with a hiss. Silence. The quarters were empty. Orion lingered a moment, optics flicking around the room. He exhaled softly and padded inside.

Instead of leaving, Orion slipped into the familiar corner, settling down cross-legged on the floor. He powered on his datapad and bent over it, stylus moving quickly. The letters blurred at the edges of his vision from strain, so he reached into his bag and placed the round black glasses on his nose, cheeks warming even though no one was here to see. There was an odd comfort here—Megatronus’ quarters felt safer, steadier, than any quiet hall of the Archives.

And so Orion waited, every so often glancing at the door as though expecting the tall figure to stride in at any moment.