Lucian's POV
*****
If he had a golden ticket for every time chasing any Amara labelled problem led them into a different dimension, he'd have two golden tickets.
Which… wasn't a lot but it was surprising it's happened so many times within a few days.
After he, Kyren and Elian got sucked into different locations, he instantly scanned around himself.
He didn't fall. There was no impact. Just the sudden awareness of weight, breath, and a familiar ache behind his eyes.
The air smelled like polished marble and incense. Old. Regal.
Lucian straightened instinctively, Alpha instincts flaring—only to freeze.
His hands were smaller.
He lifted them slowly, dread crawling up his spine. The sleeves of his clothes were unfamiliar—dark training leathers, fitted too tightly around the wrists. The Stormborn sigil stitched at the collar was old. Older than the one he usually wore now.
"No," he muttered, voice cracking.
He's… he's younger?
