The night above the Himalayas was pitch black. The stars glowed coldly, and the moon was reflected in the sparkling snowcaps of Everest. Down in the steely depths of the secret US Air Force command center, the atmosphere was different - tension rang like a taut string. A huge wall of monitors shimmered with maps and spectrograms. Radio operators and operators spoke in hushed voices, static crackling in their headphones. A uniformed general stood in the center of the room, his gaze riveted on a pulsating graph that refused to go quiet.

"What is this?” — he asked dryly, pointing at the screen.

The technician, a young man with tired eyes, nervously adjusted his glasses.

“Sir, this is not a radio signal… It’s older, deeper. It looks like an energy pulse. Repeats every five minutes. The source is…” — he hesitated, his fingers flickering across the keyboard, and a dot lit up on the screen, blinking against the background of the map. — “Everest. About two kilometers deep.”

The room went silent for a second.

“You mean there’s something alive inside that damn mountain?!” — the general barked.

“Yes, sir. And it’s huge.”

The employees looked at each other. Everyone knew what it meant. Humans were nothing that could support such a signal. Only them. Only transformers.

An hour later, the secret communication channel was already in use. The room grew even quieter as a familiar face lit up on the central screen - a steel helmet with glowing blue lenses.

Optimus Prime.

"General Mercer," — Optimus's voice was low, majestic, echoing like metal.

"You say you detected a signal under Everest?"

"Yes, Prime," — the general nodded, his voice tense. — "We've never seen anything like this. It doesn't look like Decepticons. And... it's older than anything we've seen before."

Optimus fell silent, his gaze growing heavy. The faces of Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Ironhide appeared on the screen nearby, each reacting in their own way: Bumblebee leaned closer, emitting a short electronic whistle, Ratchet raised his brow plates, and Ironhide merely muttered.

“More mountains. More ice. Of course.”

Optimus replied firmly. “We’re going there immediately. If this signal is what I think it is… it could change everything.”

Fifteen hours later, they were already there.

The mountains greeted them with a roar of wind and the crunch of snow beneath the Autobots' massive feet. Bumblebee led the way, his optics flickering as he scanned the slope. Snow swirls tried to hide the summit, but the majestic silhouettes of the Autobots were relentless.

"Signal growing stronger," — Ratchet reported, his scanners flashing green and yellow. "Source directly below us. Ice... ancient, at least ten thousand years old."

"Why would anyone hide themselves here?" — Ironhide muttered, raising his gun-wielding hand as if the mountain might suddenly come to life.

Bumblebee clicked a short fragment through his radio. "There's something out there... and it's waiting."

At first, they were just shadows in the depths. But the closer they got, the clearer the silhouette became. A figure, huge, majestic, with smooth, graceful lines of the body. The dark metallic color shimmered with silver, and on the chest ran stripes of a purple pattern, reminiscent of lightning discharges. And next to it - something else. Soldered into the ice wall, shimmering with a soft light. The Matrix of Leadership.

"Unthinkable..." — Ratchet whispered, his lenses widening. — "She... she was here all this time."

"Prime?" — Bumblebee asked in amazement, as if not trusting his sensors.

Optimus stepped closer. His eyes lingered on the figure's face, covered in frost, but still recognizable. — "No... Not just a Prime."

He fell silent. The wind howled louder, the ice walls creaking.

“That’s Astrid Prime,” — Optimus finally said, his voice filled with something between pride and pain. — “My sworn sister. I thought her fallen.”

Silence broken only by the cracking of ice.

Optimus placed his palm on the icy surface, right in front of your face.