Interlude April 24, 2021

Overload found a quiet space to reflect on the day’s events and opened the steel cover of the Covenant of Primus. While a copy of the original text, the book was a recreation of the original in almost every aspect including being written in energon upon thin sheets of steel hammered so thin they turned like paper. The history of the entire universe was said to be housed on these pages, but the languages and metaphors of Alpha Trion were so complex and enigmatic that no two scholars would ever agree on if a passage had taken place, was taking place or was foretold to happen. Overload had dedicated his time during recharging to its study, to find evidence that his being so terribly lost was the will of Primus…that he was supposed to be here to fulfill a part of the machine god’s design. His spark ached that night, the memory of the pain of being ripped from his brothers and sister Combaticons while merged anew as he now had a team once more. As he settled on a passage, his mind trying to translate the archaic Cybertronian language, he felt less burdened…he had openly transformed in front of others for the first time in a long long time. He had hidden his racial gift in fear of someone trying to steal it as if he was a soulless automation and not a sapient and sentient being. His circuits sparked as a surge shifted along his spine and into the handle of his hammer, the weapon fashioned in the likeness and image of the forge mistress of the Primes, Solus Prime…as if the weapon was giving him quiet praise for being a creator today, not a destroyer. Solus was as fierce a warrior as her lover Megatronus, if not more, but her hammer was a tool of shaping and building first and a weapon powerful enough to fight the dread god Unicron second. “Primus, guide me home when it is time, and should it never be that time let my spark return to the well when you tell me my work is done. Solus, guide my hands to build to protect and aid the helpless, and to destroy those who seek to harm life. Till all are one…” Before he shut the book, a sentence seemed to stand out to him…something about a boy who coaxed life from the dirt in a place where even sunlight was a rare treasure. He cursed, the book had closed and there was no way he would likely find that page again. He knew he had found something about this place, but had shut the bindings without realizing it soon enough. He sat the book down, it would do no good to hunt for it. The book would reveal its secrets only when it was ready…