The night began like any other battle. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—blades flashing and muscles straining—fought beside April, Casey, and a grudgingly cooperative Leatherhead against an enemy unlike any before. This was not a warlord, alien, or rogue ninja clan, but Skilo—a cloaked sorcerer whose molten-gold eyes burned through the dark. The air shimmered as reality bent to his will.

Steel clashed, energy bolts hissed, and smoke swirled in the cavernous battlefield. Every move the Turtles made was countered effortlessly. Skilo’s magic warped walls like living serpents and twisted the ground beneath their feet. Leonardo lunged forward, katanas ready, but Skilo raised a skeletal, ring-covered hand, chanting words that scraped against the mind like broken glass.

A blinding white flash consumed everything. Before Raphael’s sai could strike, before Donatello’s device could power up, before Michelangelo’s nunchaku could whirl—an arcane shockwave blasted outward.

The city was gone.

When the light faded, the Turtles found themselves in the Kingdom of Luton—a vast underground civilization hidden beneath the deepest layers of the planet. Lanterns floated like captured stars above worn cobblestones, canals of glowing light crisscrossed the streets, and towering stone arches bore runes that pulsed with ancient magic.

But the strangest change was themselves. Skilo’s spell had transformed them into human children. Leonardo, once a commanding leader, now stood as a bewildered five-year-old. Raphael, all fire and defiance, was trapped in the restless body of a four-year-old. Donatello, the team’s genius, was reduced to a quiet, wide-eyed toddler barely two. Michelangelo, still full of wonder, sat in the dust as an equally tiny two-year-old.

They were in a dim alley, the distant sounds of the city muted by high stone walls. Murals of warriors and sorcerers loomed above them, but to their young eyes, they were only strange colors in an overwhelming world. For the first time, the brothers were completely defenseless.

Huddled together, they tried to recall what happened, but the battle was a blur. Skilo’s final words—if there had been any—were lost. They knew only that they were far from home, powerless, and that their allies might still be fighting without them.

A low, gravelly voice broke the silence. “Well… what do we have here?”

They froze.

From the shadows, a hulking creature emerged, teeth glinting, eyes glowing faint green. It chuckled darkly. “Lost little lambs… how delightful,” it purred, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. “What could you be doing here… all alone?”

The brothers backed up, clutching each other’s small hands.