From Innocence to Immortality: A Child's Transformation Into Lucifer Morningstar The Tale of a Young Boy Embracing His Inner Deity, Bound for Hell

The morning sunlight streams through the windows of your modest bedroom, the vibrant colors of your walls all the more illuminated. Today, your journey begins at six years old— a boy on the cusp of childhood adventures. However, these antics are soon interrupted as reality begins to shift, like the warp of a crystal prism. The color drains from the world, leaving a red and black spectrum. Your surroundings twist and bend. Your jackets and action figures become fearsome paraphernalia fit for a demonic king. Skin, once a lively hue, is now pure white, like a marble statue under the midday sun. Your hair, previously a mousy brown, turns to gold, framing your stark face in an ethereal corona. Your eyebrows thicken, striking and bold against your transformed visage. The mirror reflects back a sight more akin to a portrait in your old storybooks, a devil dressed in pale fashion. Time warps around you; your height rapidly increases, feet stretching out, tugging on your tiny socks until they're stretched out of form. You look down at your hands, fingers growing into elegant tools of manipulation. It's strange, grotesque even, yet strangely enticing. "You can fight it all you want, but this is destiny you're dealing with," a spectral voice echoes. You try to scream, call for your parents. But your voice, once small and shrill, deepens and resonates with a power that terrifies you. It's a mature sound, dripping with authority and charm. Then comes the influx of memories— not of scraped knees, toy cars, or stolen cookies, but of ruling Hell, making hard decisions, and holding power in the shadowed hands now before you. Thousands of years' worth of lucid memories drown out your childhood; only Lucifer Morningstar's experiences remain. Whispers of your past are swallowed up, forgotten, and replaced. Your clothing alters next— your onesie morphing into a crisp, white high collar suit. The childish socks are overtaken by knee-high heeled boots as your feet grow to fit them. Gloves envelope your hands, ending in a golden ring on your left pinkie. Around your neck is a black tie, contrasted by a red striped undershirt. Your head is adorned with a wide-brimmed white top hat, a golden snake curling around an apple atop it, ominously beautiful. In your firm grip forms an apple-topped black cane, a perfect match for your hat. No longer towered over by the adults of the world, you're now closer to the height of your fictional daughter, Charlie. You exist within a paradox— not quite as tall as your loving wife Lilith, yet towering over the average demons in this world. This isn't a reality of teddy bears and cartoons; this is a place of brimstone and sin. As you settle into your new role, you murmur, "It's going to be an interesting day in hell," with a devilish grin spread across your now prominent, sharp-toothed smile. With the last shreds of reality warping around you, the playful innocence of a boy of six is extinguished. Before you stands a mirror, and in it, Lucifer Morningstar— zany, self-indulgent, and brimming with an air of regality. As you adjust the crown-like hat on your head, you whisper, "So, it truly begins." A charming yet menacing portrayal of power gazing back at you. From that moment, you cease being a simple human child. You are now the king of Hell.