Transformers Prime Predacon Novels & Stories

“And they specifically asked for you.” Alessia glanced between them. “What are the Primals? Another Empire?” Ianthe entered the room with the calm of someone who already expected chaos. “No. They’re older.” Ariadne followed, her footsteps soft, her expression unreadable. “Much older.” Alessia’s stomach tightened. “Can someone please tell me what a Primal is?” Kael stood, moving to her side protectively. “The Primals are the Luminary world’s original guardians—beings touched by the first luminous streams before the Empires even existed. They rarely interfere in Conclave matters.”

He asks. "I just know this." I tell him looking him right in the eyes. "I'm not afraid of you.' "Then you are foolish." he growls, "I.am Kaden Delacourt. The Primordial hybrid. Destroyer of packs and bringer of death. I killed my own mother and father. Tortured my siblings for eternity. Destroyed countless packs, slaughtering anyone that dared to stand in my way and yet you say you don't fear me? Do I scare you now?!" He growls, snarling his teeth at me.

Slowly, the side of the obsidian spire hissed open. A figure stepped out into the freezing wind. It was humanoid, draped in robes of shifting shadows, but its head was a perfect, smooth sphere of reflective chrome. "Subject 001. And the Anomaly," the figure’s voice bypassed their ears and echoed directly into their skulls, cold and absolute. "The Creators have grown tired of your resistance. I am the Herald of the Prime Architect. And I have come to reclaim the mountain." Caleb stood up, his silver tattoos burning brighter than ever, his lips peeling back in a feral snarl. He looked at Scarlett, who was already spinning her jade brush, the golden ink ready to write a new declaration of war.

"We've been looking for you." My stomach tightened. "Who are you?" "My name is Varek. I'm a commander of the Drakari First Legion." He stopped a few feet away, studying me with those unnerving gold eyes. "The Primarch sent us when she felt the Primordial stir. We've been tracking its energy for days." "The Primarch?" "Our ruler. The eldest of our kind." He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure something out. "You're younger than I expected. And more human."

I whispered, the name tasting like cold iron. From the black-emerald light of the Ziggurat, a hundred figures stepped out—not shifters, and not machines, but Primordial Predators of the Zero Cycle, their fur a thick, violet-black stardust, their eyes glowing with the carnal, prehistoric hunger of the ones who first broke the world. "Welcome to the End of the Food Chain, Darlene," the Leader of the First Pack growled, his voice a perfect mirror of Eryx’s own primal instincts. "It’s time to find out if the 'Queen' can survive the Wolves who made the King."

His father was not fully recovered and that bothered him greatly, he had a lot to deal with, and talking with the vampire kings was not on his priority list. Kieran ran through all that happened again. Alessandro growled, “Draco it’s pretty simple to understand”, Alessandro interrupted Kieran. Draco was a prince, son of King Draven, “They laid an ambush, took us completely unawares, however, every single one of the scoundrels is dead...”, he shrugged lightly, “Not exactly, but it is inevitable”. Kieran sensed Alessandro’s agitation and picked up from where he stopped, “What’s more important is suggesting long-lasting ways to prevent a recurrence”.

"No one outside our immediate bloodline could have breached that safe." Elena stepped closer to the console, her emerald eyes scanning the retreating figure on the screen with razor-sharp intensity. "That coat... that posture... Adrian, look at the insignia on his left lapel." Adrian zoomed in on the video feed. Embossed on the stranger's coat lapel was a small, silver pin shaped like an inverted triangle intertwined with an open eye—the ancient crest of The Primordial Order, a mythical faction that corporate historians believed had vanished before the industrial revolution.

"They aren't even scanning us. They’re... Indexing us." The Doctrine of the Supremacy The invaders were the Alpha-Mimics. In their timeline, they had optimized the "Primal Strain" until they had removed every trace of biological inefficiency. They didn't have names, only Coordinate-IDs. The InvaderThe SourceThe Objective Alpha-MimicsTimeline-882 (Supremacy).Resource Reclamation. TechnologyFemto-Tech (Sub-atomic).Total Material Conversion. PhilosophyThe Great Calculation.Elimination of the "Noise."

The demonkin spasmed once and went still. The smoke lingered a moment longer, then withdrew like retreating tide. Her father's body crumpled back to the floor, empty once more. Raven stared, chest heaving in silent sobs. The power inside her stirred—cold, vast, hungry. Life and death answered to her now, whether she wanted them to or not. More vibrations rippled through the floor—heavy boots, distant shouts she couldn't hear. Reinforcements? More invaders? It didn't matter. The war had taken everything. Arcadia Prime was falling. And she was no longer just a child.

Then, the world turns into a literal meat grinder. From the dark road behind the search parties, a pair of headlights tears through the trees at ninety miles an hour. It’s Dmitri. He doesn’t even tap the brakes. The massive armored pickup truck smashes straight through the wooden fence line, crushing two of the Matriarch’s scouts instantly under the heavy off-road tires.