The moonlight glinted off their armor as Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Prowl maneuvered through the dense forest on their patrol. It was a quiet night, the kind that was almost too peaceful—a subtle tension hung in the air.

“This area has been clear for weeks,” Prowl noted, his optics scanning the treetops for movement. “Why did you request this patrol, Optimus?”

“Gut instinct,” Optimus replied. “Something feels… off.”

Ratchet huffed. “You and your gut instincts. I could be working on critical repairs right now instead of wandering through the woods.”

“Let’s split up,” Optimus suggested. “Cover more ground. Stay within comm range, and report if you find anything unusual.”

Reluctantly, Ratchet veered east, Prowl headed west, and Optimus continued straight. The forest seemed to grow darker as they moved apart, the shadows deeper and more unsettling.

Then it came.

A low, haunting sound echoed through the trees, unlike anything any of them had ever heard before. It wasn’t mechanical, but it wasn’t organic either. It was somewhere in between—a strange, almost melodic hum that sent chills through their circuits.

“Optimus?” Ratchet’s voice crackled over the comm, uncharacteristically shaky. “Did you hear that?”

“I did,” Optimus responded, his tone firm but with a faint edge of concern.

“Prowl here,” came another transmission. “It’s… close. Whatever it is.”

“What is it?” Ratchet asked, his voice now a whisper.

No one answered.

For the first time in years, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Prowl—three of the most capable and composed Autobots—were at a loss for what to do. The sound grew louder, weaving through the air like it was alive, a presence unseen yet undeniable.

And in that moment, they realized something profound.

They weren’t alone.

What would become of them? What was the sound?

Only time would tell.