Emest, a beacon of calm, shimmered with ethereal light. Without tools, she mended reality's tears, weaving back the edges Unicron had frayed. Her focus was absolute, movements fluid as starlight. "The universe is a delicate weave," Emest's voice hummed like nascent sparks. "Each thread, star, spark... interconnected. To mend one is to acknowledge all." Her ancient eyes gazed outward. "Even in chaos, the will to create endures. There is always hope, if the song of the Allspark is remembered."
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