Transformers Until one

Chapter Two - Part Twelve

After the assassination of Alpha Trion, one of the Thirteen Primes and the guiding father figure to Optimus, a grand yet solemn funeral was held beneath the skies of Iacon—the once-glorious city Alpha Trion had governed.

The body of Alpha Trion now lay peacefully atop the ceremonial dais. The golden wires, once gleaming with the power of wisdom, were sealed with grace. Though no words were spoken in those first moments, the silence was heavy with boundless grief.

Optimus stood beside the energy coffin, his hand resting gently upon its transparent surface. His eyes said nothing, yet they brimmed with an uncontainable pain.

A great number of citizens gathered to pay their respects to the one who had been a philosopher, a leader, and a spiritual father to all of Cybertron.
Every optic cast downward. The whispered prayers of the faithful murmured like a soft breeze.
The atmosphere was still—yet saturated with a profound sorrow.

This was not merely a funeral for a leader.
It was the closing chapter of an entire era—an era of the Thirteen, born from the direct power of Primus.
Alpha Trion had been the last... and now, there were none.

Optimus Prime stepped up to the podium, under the watchful, grieving eyes of the countless mourners. The stillness around was so complete that one could hear the quiet breaths of the thousands of Cybertronians gathered for Alpha Trion's funeral.

His optics were dimmer than ever before. His posture calm, but his gaze revealed a raw and unhidden pain, as if he were holding back tears with every ounce of his being.

As the body of the fallen leader rose to its place at the pinnacle of the ceremony,
elite guards clad in dark silver armor moved into their designated positions. Some aimed their weapons skyward; others scanned the crowds with utmost vigilance.
The loss from days prior was still too fresh. They would not allow such tragedy to strike again.

Optimus stood in silence atop the platform, his optics glancing softly toward Alpha Trion's energy coffin. He took a deep breath—and began to speak with the heart of someone still standing, even after losing everything he loved, piece by piece.

He was silent for a moment, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd before he spoke, his voice steady but heavy with sorrow:

"Alpha Trion... To some, you were one of the Thirteen who shaped our world.
To me... you were my father.
I cannot describe how my world trembled the day you fell.
When your light went out, my world was plunged into darkness once more..."
He paused, steadying his emotions before continuing:

"You gave me and my brothers not just a new life—
but something far more precious. You gave us a chance, a belief,
and the faith that even among ash and ruin,
we could rise again.
I was once nothing... You were the first to call me 'son.'
And I still remember how gentle the light in your eyes was that day.
Today, I have not only lost a father—
Cybertron has lost a compassionate leader.
One who dared to stand for what was right,
even when he stood alone.
But I vow now, before every spark present...
I will carry on your will.
Your sacrifice will not be in vain.
I will endure—until light returns once more."
Optimus bowed his head slightly, closed his optics, and drew a long breath.

"Thank you... for being my guiding light.
May you rest in peace... my father."
The citizens gathered for Alpha Trion's funeral stood in reverent silence as they listened to Optimus Prime's heartfelt eulogy. Many eyes brimmed with tears. Quiet sobs echoed softly amidst the sacred stillness of the ceremony.

As his words ended, sorrow descended over the entire plaza. Some bowed their heads to suppress their sobs. Others lifted hands to their optics, struggling to contain the tide of emotion. A few embraced tightly, holding one another as if to affirm they were not alone on this darkened day.

A whisper from an elder Cybertronian slipped into the air—soft, but thunderous in the hearts of all who heard it:

"We've lost the last light of an age..."
Optimus stood in solemn silence upon the podium. His face tried to conceal the pain—but his optics spoke of love, of loss, and of an unbreakable vow.

And in that silence, every Cybertronian knew...

History had just turned a page—from which there would be no return.