Transformers Prime: Evolution

10. A Hidden History

ShadowDread stood in the cold silence of the Decepticon warship, his crimson optics reflecting the dim lights of the control panels. In his hand, the small but intricately carved artifact, the Matrix of Knowledge, glowed faintly, its ancient energy pulsing like a dying star. The flickering light played across his face, casting his already ominous presence in an even more sinister hue.

"Soundwave," ShadowDread's voice cut through the quiet, cold and precise. "I require a deeper analysis of this... relic."

Soundwave, stationed by the central console, did not respond verbally. Instead, the faint whirring of his internal processors indicated compliance. In moments, streams of data began to scroll across the monitors, detailing human history, the legends surrounding the Library of Alexandria, and ancient Cybertronian lore.

"Curious, isn't it?" ShadowDread mused, his optics narrowing as the pieces slowly clicked together. "The Autobots' interest in such a primitive place. But the energy signatures beneath the library... they point to something far older than anything from Earth."

Soundwave remained silent, his featureless face betraying nothing, though his interest in the situation was palpable. Without a word, he accessed Cybertron's most ancient records, cross-referencing the information ShadowDread had relayed.

"As I thought," ShadowDread said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't merely a piece of human history. It ties to something far more... significant."

The screen flashed again, this time displaying a symbol, ancient and unmistakable—a Quintesson crest. ShadowDread's optics flared with recognition as the word "Quintessa" appeared beneath it. He clenched his fist, staring at the symbol with growing intensity.

"Matrix of Knowledge," he repeated, the words tasting like poison on his tongue. "It predates even the Primes."

For a moment, the tension in the room thickened. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, Soundwave disconnected from the system and turned to leave.

"Report this to Megatron," ShadowDread ordered without looking away from the artifact. "He will want to know of its connection to the Quintessons."

Soundwave silently acknowledged the command, his form dissolving into the shadows of the warship's corridors as he went to deliver the intelligence to their leader. ShadowDread remained alone, transfixed by the power he now held.

But something else stirred in the room—something far darker.

A voice. Cold, feminine, and laced with ancient malice.

"ShadowDread..."

He froze. The voice slithered into his mind like a serpent, coiling itself around his thoughts. It wasn't a voice he recognized, yet it felt familiar, like a memory long buried beneath centuries of war and carnage.

"You seek power, do you not?" the voice whispered, soft yet commanding.

His optics flickered for a moment, but he did not answer.

"You are more than just a warrior. You are chosen. You were meant to find this."

ShadowDread's optics narrowed. "Who are you?"

"I am your guide, your destiny," the voice cooed, growing louder, more insistent. "I have seen the spark within you, ShadowDread. You desire strength—true strength. The Matrix is but the beginning. There is more... far more."

A cold chill gripped him as the voice directed his attention to the screen before him. Data streams rewound, the pages of ancient Cybertronian history flashing past at impossible speeds. And then, it stopped. A single phrase burned into the screen, written in the most ancient dialects of Cybertronian.