The morning air was cold. Clouds hung low, casting shadows over the worn landscape as Zayden leaned against Arcee's leg, catching his breath. The fight last night had been short—but revealing. Someone, or something, was guiding him. Through whispers in broken code, through ancient Cybertronian messages buried in Earth's forgotten places.
And now, that someone wanted him to dig deeper.
"Where do we go now?" he asked aloud.
Arcee's optics shimmered in the sunrise. "We follow the trail. If the message mentioned 'those buried in steel,' it could mean old crash sites. War wreckage. Relics that haven't been discovered by the humans yet."
Zayden nodded. "I think I know someone who can help."
---
Later that afternoon, Zayden found himself crouched beside a rusted pickup truck behind a mechanic's garage on the far edge of town. The small building was cluttered but alive with noise—air compressors, radio chatter, and occasional mechanical curses from inside.
Mikaela Banes wiped grease from her cheek, pulled her ponytail tighter, and squinted at a carburetor like it had personally offended her.
Zayden stepped into view. "Need a third hand?"
She startled, then smirked. "Well, if it isn't the mysterious junkyard ninja. You stalking me now?"
"Only half the time," he joked. "Actually, I was hoping you'd help me find a ghost."
She arched a brow, clearly intrigued. "A ghost?"
Zayden nodded. "The kind that leaves giant impact craters and alien metal scars behind."
Mikaela folded her arms, staring him down. "You're serious?"
"As an Energon leak."
She tilted her head. "Okay… Let's say I believe you. What kind of 'ghost' are we talking?"
"Old Cybertronian wrecks. Battlefields hidden in plain sight. Somewhere the government missed—or maybe covered up."
She narrowed her eyes but didn't dismiss him. "You know, my dad used to talk about places in the Nevada desert where the sand covers things that don't belong. Military fences, no-fly zones, areas you only see from satellite if you're lucky."
Zayden's pulse quickened. "Do you know how to find them?"
Mikaela hesitated, then walked to a rusted file cabinet near the back of the garage. She rifled through a drawer and pulled out an old leather folder, the edges worn by time.
"Before he got locked up," she said softly, "he gave me this. Said to never open it unless I saw something… strange."
Zayden took the folder gently, flipping it open. Inside were hand-drawn maps, coordinates, and photographs—some grainy black-and-white shots of metal fragments, others of scorched earth with unusual geometric patterns.
One location was circled in red: Steel Mountain – Classified Dig Site 41.
He looked up, eyes wide. "This might be it."
---
By sunset, Zayden and Mikaela were bouncing through the desert in her old pickup, following the map's winding route. Arcee rode behind them in bike form, her engines silent and watchful.
As the road faded into dirt, they arrived at a massive ravine carved into the rocky terrain. Barbed fences had long since rusted away. A collapsed bunker stood half-buried under debris, and around it, the faint glimmer of metal shone through the sand.
They parked, climbed down, and began exploring.
Zayden felt it instantly—the same pulse he'd felt at the radio tower. But this one was deeper, like a wound under the earth calling to be uncovered.
Mikaela knelt beside a jagged steel fragment. "This isn't human… Look at the alloys."
Arcee transformed with a metallic hum. "Confirmed. This is Cybertronian armor plating—likely pre-war. No active Energon signatures, but residual energy remains."
Zayden's Omnitrix flared to life, scanning the debris.
> "Link established. Archive fragment detected."
The ground rumbled faintly.
Suddenly, a section of the rocky cliff cracked open, revealing a hidden chamber. Dust billowed out. Inside was a decayed Cybertronian command console, lights flickering dimly.
Zayden stepped inside, heart pounding. As he approached, the console activated—recognizing his presence.
A projection flickered to life.
An ancient Cybertronian, cloaked in layers of metal robes, appeared—holographic but regal. His voice echoed like distant thunder.
> "You who bear the Code of Change… Welcome. I am Archivist Myrratek. My memory core was buried here, beneath your world's sands, awaiting the rise of the Omniversal bearer."
Zayden stared, frozen.
> "You were not born of our world, yet your soul is forged by its rhythm. You are the anomaly—the fracture in fate. Your Omnitrix is not merely a tool, but a key. Through it, you can awaken the slumbering Sparks of the past… and forge a new Cybertronian legacy."
Mikaela gasped behind him. "He's talking about… restoring something?"
Arcee stepped closer. "It's worse than that. If he's right, Zayden's powers could change the outcome of the war before it even begins."
> "But beware…" Myrratek's voice deepened. "She watches. The Shadow Weaver. She remembers your soul, even through lifetimes. And she will consume it if given the chance."
The image flickered—and vanished.
The room dimmed. The silence was heavy.
Zayden's mind raced. "Airachnid. She's hunting me… not for the Omnitrix. For me."
Arcee clenched her fists. "She must've sensed your rebirth. If she's watching, we have to move fast. The war for Earth might start sooner than any of us thought."
Zayden looked down at the glowing Omnitrix, then at Mikaela.
"Then we dig up every scar this war left behind," he said. "And we turn them into a path forward."