Alastor turns into Lucifer Morningstar

### Transformation Tale of Alastor into Lucifer Morningstar --- ### Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Event Alastor, the Radio Demon, strolled through the labyrinthine corridors of the underworld, his usual tall, imposing 7-foot figure casting eerie shadows along the walls. His broad, perpetual grin, filled with sharp, yellow teeth, seemed to widen with every echo of his footsteps. "Another day, another delightful opportunity for chaos," he thought, his red eyes glinting with malevolence. His crimson monocle gleamed under the infernal light as he played a series of sound effects from his vintage microphone cane. However, today's walk had an unfamiliar flavor. A shimmering, swirling portal suddenly materialized before him, glowing an otherworldly golden hue. Drawn by an inexplicable force, Alastor approached it. "How curious," he mused, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he reached toward the portal. Before he could retract his hand, the portal expanded and engulfed him, swallowing the demon whole. ### Chapter 2: The Metamorphosis Begins Suspended in a void of swirling gold, Alastor felt his body contort and contract. A searing pain shot through him. The hair on his head began to change color, the black tips lightening to a blinding blonde, while his skin slowly lost its beige hue, turning pure white. His famous bob-cut with black-tipped tufts morphed into a slick, suave style fitting royalty. The two deer-like antlers retracted, vanishing into his skull as though they never existed. Alastor's towering height began to regress, casting him into a shorter stature more appropriate for the King of Hell. Fingertips and toes shrank, shedding their red hue to resemble something more refined. His red pinstripe coat melted into a sleek, high-collar white suit, adorned with golden details that screamed authority. ### Chapter 3: The Mental Reformation Just as Alastor's outer transformation approached completion, a more critical change took root within his mind. Memories of his time as the sinister Radio Demon started to dissipate like smoke in a gust. His devilish grin softened into a more controlled, almost regal smirk. Thoughts of torment and broadcast gave way to musings of regality, witty charm, and a love for theatricality and polka music. The undulating void filled his mind with the essence of Lucifer Morningstar, eradicating any vestiges of Alastor. The wry showmanship remained, but it was now wrapped in a facade of menace and charm rather than raw dread. He vaguely remembered the laughter shared with his wife Lilith, the spontaneous quips about the futility of mortal endeavors, and the long-standing dominion over Hell. When the transformation was complete, there was no trace of Alastor. Only Lucifer Morningstar remained, blinking back into existence as though he had always been here. ### Chapter 4: The Emergence of Lucifer Morningstar Lucifer stepped out of the portal, his magnificent hat perched elegantly atop his head. His golden snake-and-apple crown glinted ominously. He examined his reflection in a nearby obsidian wall, a smug grin playing on his black lips. The red slit pupils in his snake-like yellow eyes glowed with a familiar, sardonic mirth. "How positively delightful," he said aloud, twirling his apple-topped cane. "Back to my realm, with Lilith awaiting my return." Gone were the sinister broadcast interferences of Alastor. In their place stood the true ruler of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar: a charismatic, self-indulgent, and zany king whose presence alone demanded respect and ignited fear. As he walked back through the corridors of Hell, now shorter than his previously towering form, Lucifer relished in this renewed sense of identity. Other demons inclined their heads, showing reverence. None dared to question the abrupt yet apparent return of their king. ### Epilogue: The New Reign In the palace of the Morningstars, Lucifer reunited with Lilith. She greeted him with a passionate embrace, their love just as fiery and reckless as ever. The corridors filled with the sweet tunes of polka music, and Hell bristled with a new chapter of torment and theatricality. From the dapper Radio Demon, known for his chaotic entertainments, to the illustrious and jaunty Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell, a transformation was carved in the fabric of the infernal realm—one that none would dare forget. And so, the legend of Lucifer Morningstar flourished, while the memory of Alastor, the Radio Demon, vanished, leaving behind only echoes in Hell’s sinister history.

In the depths of Hell, intriguing transformations were of no rarity, yet the peculiar occurrence about to unfold was bound to be one for the ages. The once fearsome Alastor, known far and wide as the Radio Demon, was about to embark on a metamorphosis that would completely rewrite his very existence. ### The Beginning of Change Alastor strolled along the grim streets of Hell, a perpetual grin plastered on his face. Clad in his red pinstriped coat, he whistled a jaunty tune, his antlers gently bobbing with the rhythm. The occasional audible buzz from his microphone cane added an eerie ambiance to his journey. He soon found himself at the heart of an abandoned theater, a place where Hell's aura throbbed intensely. The whispers of the damned wove a tapestry of energy, beckoning him closer to the epicenter. Alastor, ever intrigued by the esoteric and the arcane, couldn't resist exploring further. Upon the grandest stage, an ancient relic glowed with an unearthly light. ### The Metamorphosis Curiosity piqued, Alastor approached the relic, unable to resist the pull of its strange power. The moment his fingers made contact, a surge of energy coursed through his entire being, bringing him to his knees. His body convulsed, a cacophonic symphony of agonized cries and maniacal laughter flooding the theater. As the relic's power intertwined with his essence, Alastor's form began to shift. His tall, lanky frame started to shrink, his gaunt features and even his deer-like antlers diminishing in size. The red pinstriped coat fused into his skin, its hue lightening until it formed a pristine white high collar suit. His vibrant red dress-shirt morphed into a red undershirt adorned with white stripes, while his polished boots extended into knee-high heeled ones. His once clutch of menacing yellow teeth fused into a uniform line of sharp, blackened fangs. His eyes, notorious for their radio dial pupils, transformed into striking yellow with slit red pupils that resembled those of a snake. The black monocle dissolved into his flesh, replaced by a pair of thick black eyebrows and purple eyelids adding a sinister allure. Memories of his former self started to dissolve. The remnants of Alastor's personality and past drowned in the overwhelming tide of a new identity. The fresh consciousness that arose was that of Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. All recollections of the Radio Demon, his powers, his gory past, his ceaseless hunger for chaos, were replaced with the grandiosity of who he'd now become. ### The Emergence of Lucifer Morningstar Lucifer arose from the ground, elegantly brushing off the remnants of his old self. He donned a wide-brimmed white top hat adorned with a golden snake and a red apple over golden spikes reminiscent of a crown. The transformation was complete—Alastor the Radio Demon was no more, and in his stead stood Lucifer Morningstar. His white, pristine suit contrasted sharply with the darkness of Hell, an odd juxtaposition to his regal, yet playful demeanor. With a jolly whistle, Lucifer monikered himself, "Back in business, darling!" His voice echoed with a touch of his predecessor’s charm but laced with newfound regality and a layer of menace that demanded respect. Lucifer twirled his apple-topped cane with a flourish, a zany showman ready to entertain and judge, in equal measure, to the damned souls of Hell. His every word now dripped with wit, every gesture lined with orchestrated flamboyance, maintaining an air of unpredictability and terror. ### New Reign, New Memories Lucifer Morningstar's life map had been redrawn. Memories of ruling Hell, lavish affairs with Lilith Morningstar, humorous quips, and the adoration for polka music replaced Alastor's murderous, chaotic history. He now wandered Hell with a different purpose, nurturing his kingdom, balancing his whims with an air of intimidating authority. There was no Alastor, just Lucifer—jaunty, eloquent, and zany yet still allowing no infernal minion to feel comfortable enough to forget his dominance. As he gazed upon his domain, Lucifer smirked, a gleam of mischief flashing in his serpentine eyes. With a playful yet sinister lilt, he declared, "Hell shall never be boring under my watch!" And indeed, it never would be, not under the reign of the flamboyant king—the one and only Lucifer Morningstar.

### Transformation Story: Alastor to Lucifer Morningstar In the depths of Hell, a place where darkness thrives and souls are trapped in eternal torment, Alastor, the Radio Demon, found solace in his macabre broadcasts and the screams of suffering. His tall, slender frame loomed over his latest conquest: a sinner cowering in fear. The air crackled with an eerie static, a familiar background noise to Alastor, as he prepared to unleash his torment. But tonight, something felt off. As Alastor turned his attention back to the microphone attached to his cane, an even more unnerving sound filled the room - silence. The ambient noise vanished, replaced by an oppressive stillness. Then, a voice echoed, "Alastor, your reign of terror ends tonight." The Radio Demon looked around, his red irises scanning the darkness for the source. Suddenly, a blinding golden light erupted from the shadows, encasing Alastor in its glow. He tried to shield his eyes, but the light was inescapable, penetrating his very being. "You have served your time well, Alastor," the voice continued, "but a higher power demands your role now. Embrace your new identity." Alastor's body began to convulse as the transformation took hold. His deer-like antlers receded into his skull, replaced by an entirely smooth, white head. His red-tipped hair turned a brilliant blonde and flowed down to settle neatly around his shoulders. He felt his height diminish, shrinking from his imposing seven feet to a more modest stature. The beige tone of his skin turned alabaster white, and his once slender frame became more refined, with elegant proportions fitting for the king of Hell. His eyes, once dark-red with radio dial pupils, morphed into yellow with snake-like slit pupils. The sharp teeth remained, but now black lips formed around them, adding to his unnerving charm. His red pinstripe coat and black accents morphed into a high-collar white suit with a red undershirt. Knee-high heeled boots materialized to replace his pointed-toe boots. A wide-brimmed white top hat appeared on his head, adorned with a golden snake and a red apple. In his hand, his thin cane transformed into an apple-topped black cane that matched his hat. The transformation wasn't just physical. Alastor's mind began to rewrite itself. Memories of his past life as the Radio Demon faded, replaced with thoughts of ruling Hell, his marriage to Lilith, and the mischievous love of polka music. His personality shifted from the sadistic, radio-loving demon to a zany, charismatic showman with a penchant for quips and jokes. His heart filled with an undeniable affection for his wife, Lilith, a bond of passionate, cheesy love. As the glow from the transformation faded, a new figure stood where Alastor once was - Lucifer Morningstar, king of Hell. He felt a strange confidence in every fiber of his being. His memories, his priorities, his very essence had changed entirely. Alastor was no more. Lucifer glanced at his reflection in the mirror, a toothy grin spreading across his black lips. His golden ring glinted in the dim light of Hell. He tilted his wide-brimmed white top hat with an air of regality and menace, admiring the golden snake and red apple. "Well, well, well," he said with a chuckle, his voice smooth and regal. "It looks like a new era has begun." He flicked his cane, and the air filled with the lively notes of a polka tune, his new favorite music. Lucifer Morningstar stepped out of the room, ready to embrace his role as the ruler of Hell, with no recollection of ever having been Alastor the Radio Demon.

--- In the infernal heart of Hell, the air crackled with sinister energy as Alastor, the Radio Demon, sauntered down the cobblestone streets of Pentagram City. His gaunt frame cast an elongated shadow in the dim, infernal glow, and his ever-present, unnervingly broad smile sent shivers down the spines of the demons he passed. Alastor thrived on the chaos he orchestrated, but little did he know, a transformation of unimaginable magnitude waited in his near future. ### The Encounter One evening, Alastor stumbled upon an ancient, dust-covered tome in a dilapidated bookstore tucked away at the edge of the city. Intrigued by its mysterious aura, he gingerly opened it. As he did, the darkness grew thicker, and an eerie voice echoed through the room. "Only the chosen one shall unlock the power within," it intoned. Alastor's curiosity got the better of him. He grinned wickedly, believing no power could rival his own. ### The Ritual Minutes later, Alastor stood in the center of a ramshackle pentagram, the book cradled in his hands. Chanting the verses inscribed within, he felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. His red eyes gleamed with malicious glee as he reached the culmination of the incantation. The moment he finished the final syllable, a blinding light exploded from the pages, binding Alastor in ethereal chains. He struggled and snarled, but the chains dug into his skin, burning with an ancient power that no one, not even the Radio Demon, could resist. ### The Transformation Cold, searing pain washed over him, beginning with his antlers. They retracted violently until they were no more, leaving his head smooth and alien. His hair bleached blond and grew long, cascading down his back with a royal luster. Alastor's crimson eyes turned venomously yellow, his pupils narrowing into terrifying slits. His body convulsed as his height diminished rapidly. His 7-foot frame shrank until he stood slightly shorter than the female demons he once towered over. His gaunt, beige skin became pure white, devoid of any color save for the eerie red cheeks that mirrored his daughter's. Darkness clawed at his mind. Alastor’s memories—the chaos, the wickedness, the radio broadcasts—were forcefully stripped away, leaving an empty void. New memories, foreign but overwhelmingly powerful, took their place. He was no longer Alastor. He was Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. ### Rebirth Lucifer's eyes fluttered open. He gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. The unfamiliar visage stared back—a stark, otherworldly face crowned with an elaborate white hat, topped with a golden snake and red apple. Smirking, he realized he wielded a cane adorned similarly, and his fingers were wrapped in gold and bedecked with rings. Lucifer chuckled, the sound melodic yet menacing. He no longer felt the hunger for chaos but a sophisticated craving for order, albeit tailor-made to his whims. He wore a white high-collar suit and knee-high heeled boots, contrasting sharply with Alastor’s old attire. His black lips twisted into a grin full of jagged teeth. Walking out of the bookstore, every demon now trembled not in palatable fear, but in reverent dread. They recognized their king, the sovereign ruler of Hell, who exuded authority wrapped in layers of jocular charm and unpredictable menace. ### New Reality Lucifer’s influence quickly solidified. No one remembered Alastor; he had been entirely erased, replaced by the omnipotent presence of Lucifer Morningstar. His world revolved around his wife Lilith, and their love was as passionate and cheesy as ever described. The Radio Demon was no more, and Hell danced to the tune of polka under the merry yet tyrannical rule of their eternal king, Lucifer Morningstar. His reign was absolute, his charisma unchallenged, and the memories of Alastor, a mere whisper in the void of forgotten things. And thus, Alastor's transformation was complete—a metamorphosis that not only altered his body and mind but the very soul of Hell forever. --- The end.

### The Transformation of Alastor to Lucifer Morningstar Once upon a time in the infernal depths of Hell, Alastor, known to all as the Radio Demon, roamed the streets with an air of charisma and malevolence. All who crossed his path knew of his penchant for broadcasting the darkest of delights, creating a symphony of terror that kept even the most hardened sinners at bay. On this particular day, however, Alastor was feeling an unusual itch in his mind, an insatiable curiosity about the ancient relic rumored to hold ultimate power—the Scepter of Archdevils. Whispered rumors claimed that this artifact had the ability to reshape any demon it touched, a legend so tantalizing that even Alastor couldn’t resist seeking it out. The scepter lay hidden in the deepest vaults of Lucifer Morningstar’s palace, guarded by an impenetrable cadre of demonic soldiers and enchantments. But for the Radio Demon, no barrier was insurmountable. Alastor’s crooked smile grew even wider as he cloaked himself in shadows, bypassing the sentinels and traps with ease, until he stood in front of the relic. He reached out, his red fingers inches away from the ornate staff, when a sudden pulse of energy surged through him. The scepter reacted as if it had been awaiting a touch both daring and impudent. It leapt from its pedestal, striking Alastor squarely in the chest, and an overwhelming force coursed through his body. He fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, his mind aflame with visions. His appearance began to shift and churn like molten metal being forged into a new form. His beige-colored skin blanched into a pure, unsettling white. The red pinstripe coat unraveled and reformed into a high-collared white suit. His red hoofed toes reshaped into knee-high heeled boots, and the sharp antlers and tufts of hair transformed into a flowing mane of golden locks. As Alastor's outer form changed, so too did his inner essence. His memories of broadcasting sinister radio shows, his malevolent mirth, and all the wickedness that defined him dissipated like smoke in the wind. Meanwhile, new memories cascaded in—memories of ruling Hell, a love affair with Lilith Morningstar, and an eternity's worth of banter and wit. His personality underwent a profound metamorphosis, the sinister charm replaced with a zany regality steeped in both menace and whimsical humor. Fully transformed, the new being—no longer Alastor, but Lucifer Morningstar—stood up. His eyes, now yellow with red slit pupils, surveyed the scene with a new understanding, a regal but mischievous glint replacing the predatory gaze. He adjusted his wide-brimmed white top hat and flicked back a stray lock of blonde hair. Grinning a full-toothed, sharp smile, he took the apple-topped black cane in hand and stepped into his role seamlessly. Lucifer cast a glance at his surroundings, taking in the fallen relic and the subtle traces of magic that lingered in the air. Not a single shred of doubt or confusion clouded his mind. He was Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. He had always been Lucifer Morningstar. As he exited the vault, a chorus of startled gasps echoed through the palace halls. Demons bowed, confused but obedient. Lilith, shimmering with both surprise and affection, approached and gave him a knowing smile. “Well, are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to dance?” she asked, offering her hand. Lucifer took her hand, his smile a mix of adoration and devilish charm. “A dance, my love, sounds positively delightful.” Together, they joined in a dance that was both playful and sinister, a perfect reflection of their reign over Hell. And in that moment, Alastor was nothing more than a distant memory, completely consumed by the essence and identity of Lucifer Morningstar. And so, with a whimsical yet menacing twinkle in his eye, the new king continued his timeless rule, every step a testament to the power of transformation and the ever-elusive nature of identity in the infernal realm.

In the heart of Hell, Alastor prowled through the chaotic streets of Pentagram City, his ever-present smile glowing with malevolent glee. His crimson eyes surveyed the scene around him like a hunter stalking prey. The Radio Demon felt a certain thrill in the air tonight, a strange energy that seemed to whisper promises of something grand. Alastor’s cane clicked rhythmically against the cobblestones, enhancing his presence and echoing his power. He was wrapped in his usual red pinstripe coat, the dark-red lapels framing his broad, sinister grin. His slender form moved with an eerie, almost supernatural grace, exuding an aura rare even among the denizens of Hell. His antler-like hair tufts bobbed slightly as he moved, his piercing red eyes glinting with mischief. As Alastor wandered deeper into the underbelly of Pentagram City, he found himself drawn to an ancient, dilapidated structure—an old, forgotten cathedral that seemed to hum with an aura of ancient power. His interest piqued, Alastor pushed open the massive doors that creaked in protest, leading him into the shadowy depths within. The grand hall was lit only by the dim light of fireflies trapped in old lanterns hanging from the rafters. Alastor walked with purpose, his clawed fingers trailing along the pews as he made his way toward the altar. As he approached, he noticed a large, ornate mirror standing in the center of the platform, its surface shimmering with an unnatural light. Alastor’s reflection in the mirror wavered, as if the surface were made of liquid. Suddenly, the glass began to ripple and glow, casting a blinding light that bathed the entire cathedral in an otherworldly glow. Alastor shielded his eyes with his forearm, squinting against the light, feeling an overwhelming force pulling him forward. His mind began to swim as memories of his long existence as the Radio Demon started to blur and fade. His signature smile faltered, replaced by confusion and a sense of impending transformation. The energy from the mirror enveloped him completely, and he felt his body begin to shift and morph in ways he couldn't comprehend. Alastor's tall, lean frame convulsed as it began to shrink; his beige-colored skin paled to a ghostly white. His pricked ears and antlers receded, replaced by thick, luxurious blonde hair. His red eyes turned piercing yellow with red slits resembling a snake's. The Radio Demon’s sharp, mischievous grin faded into the smooth yet sinister smile of Lucifer Morningstar. His suit began to change as well, morphing into a chic, high-collar white suit with knee-high heeled boots. His coat and dress shirt were replaced with a red undershirt adorned with white stripes, and a black bowtie took the place of his knotted one. An exquisite white top hat materialized atop his head, trimmed with golden spikes, a golden snake, and a red apple. Alastor’s mental faculties underwent a profound transformation as well. Memories of his time as the Radio Demon vanished like mist, replaced by centuries of regal and infamous rule. Gone was the chaotic, malevolent humor of Alastor, replaced by the zany, self-indulgent, and charismatic wit of Lucifer Morningstar. As the transformation completed, the intimate knowledge of Hell and his position as its king flooded into his consciousness. The thrill and power he once felt as the Radio Demon were now nothing compared to the absolute dominion he held as Lucifer. His mind now brimmed with memories of ruling Hell, his fiery romance with Lilith, and the maintenance of his fearsome reputation. A new grin spread across Lucifer's face as he straightened, the light of the transformation fading. He surveyed his reflection with satisfaction, adjusting his hat and cane. His rich laughter echoed through the cathedral, a sound filled with both mirth and menace. Alastor the Radio Demon was no more. In his place stood Lucifer Morningstar, the undisputed king of Hell, ready to command with a blend of wicked whimsy and terrifying authority. The legendary power and personality of Lucifer shone bright, and with a jaunty step, he left the cathedral, greeting Hell once more with an air of confident dominion, all memories of his former self entirely erased.

In the dimly lit atmosphere of the Hazbin Hotel, the ethereal ambience mixed with a sense of foreboding. Alastor, the Radio Demon, with his ever-present grin, wandered the hallways, broadcasting his voice through his vintage microphone. Despite his unsettling aura, tonight felt different for the Radio Demon. An eerie whisper from the dark corners seemed to call his name, laced with laughter, and infused with an energy that felt both destructive and transformative. Drawn towards a hidden chamber that pulsed with ancient power, Alastor's curiosity, ever unstoppable, led him deeper into the shadows. What he didn't know was that this chamber harbored a powerful relic, a twisted mirror rumored to change destinies. He approached it, captivated by its dark allure. His reflection in the mirror smiled even wider than usual, distorting grotesquely, until the wicked grin matched that of Lucifer Morningstar. As he reached out to touch the glass, the mirror responded, pulling him in with a surge of arcane energy. His body contorted, and age began reversing rapidly. Alastor's tall, menacing frame slowly shrank. The feeling of being stretched and compressed at the same time engulfed him. His usually glittering, alluring red eyes seemed to dissolve, replaced by snake-like, yellow ones with red slit pupils. His hair lightened dramatically, colors melting, morphing into a brilliant blonde. Gone were the black antlers and the red, cropped hairstyle. His attire seemed to ripple and change with the momentous wave of transformation. The red pinstripe coat and black dress pants shifted to become a high-collared white suit paired with knee-high heeled boots. The pinkish-red dress shirt became a red accent under the suit, adorned with a black bowtie. A white top hat, adorned with sinister yet regal decorations, materialized on his head. Alastor's memories and personality, broadcasted by his relentless radio waves, started to disintegrate like a signal fading out. New thoughts, sinister yet quirky, formed in their place. Thoughts of ruling Hell, memories of passionate evenings with Lilith, and a relentless love for polka music surged through his mind. The essence of Alastor, the Radio Demon, ceased to exist; his every habit and recollection overwritten by the persona of Lucifer Morningstar. The transformation complete, Lucifer emerged from the chamber, the embodiment of regality and menace. His once broad, unsettling grin was now a charismatic, goofy smirk, exuding an aura that oscillated between carefree charm and intimidating dominance. He twirled his apple-topped cane with familiarity as if it had always been his, tipping his wide-brimmed hat as if to acknowledge some unseen audience. No trace of Alastor remained. The new ruler of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar, strode out of the Hazbin Hotel with a jaunty step, every inch the self-indulgent, zany, and charismatic showman he was always meant to be.

In the bustling heart of Hell, at a place where sinners are separated from the just, the infamous Alastor stood alone, looking dapper as ever in his cherry-red pinstripe attire. His eyes glowed a bright red, and his typical broad grin was adorned with sharp, yellow teeth. Alastor, the Radio Demon, was in high spirits, but unaware of the transforming journey he was about to embark upon. Suddenly, Alastor felt a pang in his chest, searing like a hot poker. His frame began to shrink somewhat, much to his consternation. His skin lightened from its usual beige tone to pure white. Panic welled up as he watched his limbs retract and his body loose height, quickly dropping from seven to nearly Charlie's height. His eyes widened as his horns, that were always amiable reminiscences of his demonic radio persona, vanished into nothing. The radio-dial pupils turned pitch-black before shifting into menacing red slits, as if mocking his rapidly changing existence. His hair, previously the distinct reddish bob with black tips, began to fade into a bright beautiful blonde. An extreme overhaul was taking place as Alastor was becoming Lucifer Morningstar; Hell’s charismatic ruler beneath the eternal flame. His once red attire of slick pinstripes dissolved into an elegant white suit with high collars, a black bowtie, and a red undershirt with white stripes. A wide rimmed white top hat appeared on his head, adorned with a golden snake and red apple. The old red cane with a vintage microphone disappeared to be replaced by the opulent apple-topped black cane of Lucifer. Suddenly, Alastor's smile faltered as unfamiliar memories began to flood his mind. A regality of never before experienced emotions overwhelmed him, each one more vivid and rich than his past memories. His former life was receding faster than he'd believed possible. He knew he was Alastor, but the recollection was fading quickly, in favor of another life; the life of Lucifer Morningstar, the king of Hell. Then, Alastor was gone. All his memories, characteristics, his very essence was replaced with Lucifer’s. All the memories of terrorizing sinners as the Radio Demon seemed like a distant, forgotten dream. What remained was the reality of a self-indulgent, zany ruler with a love for puns, quips and silly charm. Memories of his passionate love for Lilith replaced any other remembrance of any past attraction. His transformation had drastically metamorphosed him; into a far different persona; loving husband, a charismatic showman with a touch of menace for good measure. He was now Lucifer Morningstar, having been born anew through a strange and sudden metamorphosis. Lucifer looked down, taking in his shorter stature and new royal garb. He adjusted his top hat, giving a cheeky grin to his reflection satisfied with his royal appearance. His complementing golden ring sparkled under the hell fire. “Ah, we always enjoy a little bit of chaos now, don’t we?” He spoke with a playful jest, a sign that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was gone forever. In his place, there stood Lucifer Morningstar, king of Hell, with all his regality and charm intact.