[I put this down sometime in 2016 as a solidified form of my own preferred headcanon for the origin of the Transformers with Primus, The Primes, Unicron etc riffing on a biblical/scriptural feel but never posted it anywhere! I think my intention was to make it a little comic but I suck at putting the same effort into sequential art as I do one picture on its own. Anyway, please let me know what you think! I'm glad to be able to share this.]
A new world spins about its star, gleaming.
Its land lies formless. Seas of molten metal run across its searing surface.
Slowly it is coming to life. One day far from now someone will name it Cybertron.
Before that day can come, its sparking earth must give up the coiling urge that grows within it.
Perhaps in an instant, perhaps over millennia - the planet produces a self of its own.
Surging outward and shrinking inward all at once, a vast mind gains radiance at its centre.
Some miracle of the planet's crystal core keeps this consciousness contained.
Like the planet that houses it, this self has no need of names now. But when the time comes it will be called Primus.
The sole inhabitant of Cybertron soon comes to realise its solitude. Its mind is of a depth to quickly realise it cannot be alone among the stars.
It calls to them, but is greeted only with their infinite silence.
It decides if it cannot meet others, it can create them.
Out of its oneness come thirteen to share in the light of this thing called life.
Realising these new-old minds must each be housed as it is, Primus gives its children bodies born up out of the twinkling loam. Primordial feet stand upon the surface of Cybertron for the first time; those of The Primal One, bearer of The First Face.
Chief among the first thirteen, he embodies an ideal: hope. Leading the others through years uncounted, he brings civilisation to Cybertron and Primus is content with the fruits of his labour.
Observing the diversity of its first children, The Bringer of Life ushers up more hands to shape its world. Shimmering cities rise. Wisdom reigns. Cybertron is as gold. Primus is content.
But worlds away, across the ocean of time and space between them, an unlikely brother heeds Primus’ ancient summons.
Unlike Primus, this self is content in its solitude. Believing itself to be the only mind in the trackless void, the truth of another’s existence enrages it.
It can be the only one.
It begins its journey.
Shaping the similar world it occupies into an engine of destruction, it intends to consume the contender to its singularity. If it is not the only one, then it will make all things one within it. It will unify everything.
Nearing the shining speck of Cybertron, it casts its senses over the land. What it regards only serves to fuel its rage. The teeming populace of Primus’ children are even more of an affront to it.
It will visit upon each of them the pain they have caused it. To this end the being that would be called Unicron, spawns children of its own.
Horrors in their sameness, this horde of demons will sweep over the surface of Cybertron until nothing remains. They will be a scourge upon it.
In the golden cities, the inhabitants of Cybertron turn their gaze upon the stars and know fear for the first time.
As the plague visited upon them descends from the abyss, they know death for the first time.
Realising this chaos-bringer heeds its aeons old call, Primus knows despair for the first time.
Finally a companion emerges from the stars, only to destroy everything Primus loves. Hate is not something it knows within its expanse but Primus realises this aggressor acts out of an urge far beyond simple hate. How can such a mind exist?
Its light shrinks. Dark times begin.
While the purity of Primus may be above rage and retribution, its children - made to be able to be more – are not. The Thirteen shape their ancient tools into objects very new to Cybertron: weapons.
Cybertron knows war for the first time.
Shimmering spires shatter. Every wonder the citizens of Cybertron have built seems to crumble before their eyes. Yet those first feet stand firm. Primus’ children rally behind its firstborn son, for upon his head hang all their hopes.
Victory seems close but Unicron’s rage continues to burn. It must destroy Primus. It must take everything of its enemy into itself so that its light will never shine again. Unicron stabs at the heart of Cybertron.
The darkest hour nears and Primus’ first son knows only he can bring light to it. The very earth under their feet begins to crack as The Thirteen come to the aid of their leader, just as he tears out his own heart.
Holding the orb aloft, it appears to rob him of all light and in an instant expel it a thousand times over.
Unicron is driven back, its own surface fragmenting under the infinite illumination. Its rage is touched by fear and it knows it cannot win. Not this day.
Tearing space apart in its desperate haste to flee, Unicron returns to its place in the void. Broken.
It is not the only thing to lie broken.
Primus’ first son is dead. His heart in his hands still flickering with the faintest spark.
The other Primes scattered to the cosmic wind in the final onslaught will come to be little more than legends.
Cybertron is saved. Its people crawl from the rubble of their once great cities and begin to rebuild their home. But without the Primes, nothing will ever be the same.
Time passes and the truths of Cybertron’s history become myths. Only the Primes in their exile are left with memory. One is left with dark intent.
Primus in its grief withdraws from the world it shaped.
One day a new champion will take up that first son’s mantle and keep that ancient heart safe in his chest, lighting the way of a new generation to follow the old ideals.
War will come again. Peace will come again. Hope will come again.
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