From Reader to Ruler: The Metamorphosis into Lucifer Morningstar, Lord of Hell

As you probe the surface of a peculiarly marked mirror, reflections seeming to dance in a strange, otherworldly light, your heart pounds with a chaotic rhythm in your chest. Distorted, there was something unsettling about your image. You fight a shudder. Against it all, you commit the act— you touch the mirror, your fingertips instantly turning icy. An ethereal coil of icy white light ensnared your body, and an unearthly yank forces your breath out in a swift exhale. You scream, the cry ripped away by the gnashing vortex emerging from the mirror, devouring your being. Panic spikes but dissipates just as quick, the cold threads of transformation weaved by the mirror dulling your emotional reaction. Your palms twitch, your flashback fading away into echoes. The mirror was pulling you into the image of someone else. The warmth of your skin yields to a cold, chalky texture. You glance at your hands, pure white skin, whiter than the moon's glow, replacing your once familiar tone. Twisting your hands, you watch as sharp black claws replace your formerly trimmed nails. Your sandy hair slowly shifts, lightening into a softer, golden hue. Looking into the mirror, you see thick black eyebrows grown above now glowing yellow eyes, red-slit pupils in those staring back at you with an otherworldly intensity. The cold fear tightened even more as your face morphed, losing ears, nostrils.. Yet somehow, your senses heightened. Apprehension stems as you feel your body stiffen, attempting to call out for help. The voice that rang out was foreign, almost melodic. "Well, this certainly doesn't seem like Kansas anymore." Your memory grappled with traces of familiarity in the voice. Had you heard it before? In a mad scramble, you try to remember your parents or siblings or friends. But each name, each face, was making way for others, for memories thousands of years old, for voices barely human. The strange memories, as much as they should confound, felt right, natural. In place of your fair freckles, two red cheeks make their claim. Your body spun as a tight-fitting white high collar suit, black boots of impressive height, and a black bow tie found themselves replacing your jeans and tee. A red undershirt with white stripes adorn your body. You stumble, the height different, eased by the jaunty air of the boots. Apparently, your style improved remarkably in the last sixty seconds. A white top hat settles on your now blonde head, an unusual accessory in the form of a golden snake wrapped around a red apple adding to its charm. A golden ring slipped onto your left pinkie, feeling fittingly ostentatious. And there it was. This was the prophecy this mirror held. Here you stood, adorned in style and echoing menace, Lucifer Morningstar himself. Sights and sounds of a realm unknown swim in your mind, the caustic nightlife of Pentagram City, countless shades of red. Strains of polka music draw a small grin to your lip. You were never a fan before; now, it felt like ambrosia. Bottles of whiskey, old-world charm, the constant game of wits, were all intoxicating. A name drifts to your mind, fond, deeply cherished. Lilith. Pictures of a striking demon flash in your memories- the love of your immortal life. You remember countless passionate moments, the cheesy love notes, the whispered secrets. The memories awaken a longing for a life and love that feels like your own. You straighten, a cane materializing in your hand, tipped with an apple matching your hat. Your bearing no longer a man in his prime but the immortal demon king who ruled Hell for millions of years, yet remaining slightly shorter than his daughter Charlie and his wife Lilith. A chuckle rises from deep inside you, the sound oddly calming, creating an intriguing mix of menace, charm, and a sweet, musical note of the polka you've come to love. With a final glance at the mirror, the transformation seemed complete. You were Lucifer Morningstar, not a human anymore. The past life and his own memories, swept away, replaced by the immortal life of demons and debauchery in Hell.