"I love you, Lilith Morningstar." ―Lucifer Morningstar "I love you, Daddy." ―Lilith Morningstar

In the heart of Hell, chaos is the norm, but this day was destined to be unlike any other. In the grandiose palace of the Morningstar family, Lucifer busied himself with his usual mischief, twirling his cane and humming a jaunty polka tune. A myriad of gold and red hues bathed the opulent room, mirroring the colors of his devilish attire. “What delightful chaos can I spread today?” Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth glinting beneath his black lips. He glanced over at the grand, elongated mirror framed with gilded serpents and apples—a reflection that seemed oddly still for a moment. Suddenly, a ripple passed through the mirror, distorting his reflection. "Hmm, that’s new," he remarked curiously. Stepping closer, he could see the image of himself morph into the visage of his beloved wife, Lilith. "Lucifer, darling," the reflection spoke in a voice that resonated with grace and warmth. "Our time together has been a cherished one, but changes are inevitable." Lucifer stumbled back, gripping his cane tighter. "Lilith? What is this trickery?" Lilith’s reflection stepped out of the mirror, a ghostly apparition that began to encompass him. "This is the will of Hell itself, my love. Our roles are intertwined, and now, it’s time for you to become me." Lucifer’s eyes widened as he felt an energy surge through his body, his skin prickling as if thousands of needles were dancing on it. He staggered, trying to shake off the invasive presence. "No! This cannot be!" His once pristine white skin began to soften and take on a more delicate hue. His face contorted as it started to reshape, his thick black eyebrows slimming, eyes shifting to a ghostly silver-grey with long black eyelashes. The angular, snakelike structure of his eyes softened, yet retained a formidable glint. The golden snake and red apple on his hat vanished as the headgear morphed into a black crown of thorns. Lucifer’s blonde hair lengthened, cascading down his back in radiant waves, streaked with honey blonde highlights. "Ngh… not like this…" he muttered, trying to cling to his identity. His voice wavered and then smoothed into a melodious yet commanding tone. His suit disintegrated, threads reforming into a luxurious purple gown that gleamed with an otherworldly light. The slit on the side revealed glimpses of long, toned legs covered by black evening gloves stretching past his elbows. Trying to battle the changes, Lucifer felt his mental faculties assaulted by an array of foreign thoughts and memories. "This is not who I am!" he cried out, but his voice dulled, drowning under the flood of Lilith’s essence. She swayed on her feet as his own memories faded, replaced by the poised and graceful recollections of ruling Hell alongside the love of her life. Her body adjusted, her height increasing until she stood taller than before, more statuesque—towering over where Lucifer once did. "It is who you have always been," echoed through her mind, the last remnant of Lucifer’s resistance dissolving as Lilith’s personality and memories anchored fully. She blinked, completely transformed with elegance filling her form. Lilith glanced around the room, serene yet commanding. "What a bizarre moment," she mused, her voice a silky contrast to Lucifer’s prior pitch. "I must have been daydreaming." She glided toward the throne, her movement exuding the dignity of a queen who had done so countless times before. As she sat, she thought about how much she adored the kingdom under her rule—and her family, a vibrant glint shone in her silvery eyes. "Charlie, my dear daughter," she whispered, "Expect me soon." Lilith Morningstar, in her full regal form, summoned her demonic council, perfectly unaware that she was ever anyone but the graceful and equanimous queen of Hell, wife to a husband who loved her passionately, and mother to a daughter she cherished.

In the depths of hell, amidst brimstone and fire, Lucifer Morningstar, the suave and charismatic king, found himself in an unexpected predicament. Much to his surprise and confusion, he had begun to feel strange, his body gradually shifting and rearranging, puppeteered by an unseen force. He frowned, staring at his sickeningly pale hands. "Quite the performance tonight, eh?" he muttered to himself, always one to keep his spirits up with a bad joke. Physical changes were the first to come. He could now feel a peculiar sensation in his spine, a strange force pulling him upwards. No longer on par with his darling daughter, Charlie, he suddenly found himself towering over most other demons at a height of around 6 feet 4 inches, a height only comparable to his beloved wife, Lilith. "And for my next trick, an impersonation of my darling." He chuckled morosely, although deep down he was troubled. An excruciating pain coursed through his head, causing him to stumble. Reaching up, he discovered a pair of long, magenta horns, similar to those of his wife. His suit too, felt tight and constricting. "Guess I won’t be needing you anymore…” he said, casting off the white high collar suit and red undershirt, leaving him in only a pair of trousers. Almost as if summoned, a long, purple gown, similar to one Lilith often wore, appeared draped over a chair. With a sigh, he slid it on, the fabric familiar yet alarmingly foreign. His white top hat and apple-topped cane disappeared, replaced by a crown of thorns sitting atop his newly grown horns. His eyes widened as he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. What met his gaze was no longer Lucifer Morningstar, but a tall, curvaceous woman with silver-grey eyes and long, flowing blonde hair, streaked with hues of honey. Goddess of demons, Queen of hell—Lilith Morningstar. Lucifer—or should it be said Lilith now—felt a rush of emotions, her own, intact memories beginning to wane. "Stop, stop," she murmured, clenching her fists. However, her pleas went unheard. Instead of Harold's bar, she remembered the royal nursery, instead of Baba Yaga’s curse, her mind was filled with peace treaties. Where she used to revel in haphazard puns and indulgent jokes, she now felt a pull towards grace and stern regality. The love she held for polka music was rewritten to ballads and lullabies. The taste for cheeky chaos was replaced by political power plays. Her demeanor gradually shifted, embellished with royal airs, until the goofiness was replaced by elegant composure. Her laughter, which was once boisterous and engaging, was now a curt, tinkling laugh that spoke of the upperworld's elite. As time passed, she no longer resisted these changes. She found herself fondly called by demons and angels alike, as Lilith instead of Lucifer. "I guess, I’m not the king anymore." She murmured, looking at her reflection in the glass. Instead of a sarcastic grin, her thin lips formed a soft, yet regal smile. The once frivolous thrill-seeker was now a regal queen, recalling her reign with confidence rather than a clownish prankster's laughter. Her husband's memories and personality were replaced with her own as Lilith Morningstar, forcing her to believe that she had been Lilith her entire life—a queen, powerful and undeniably feminine. The evening darkness cloaked her as she sat upon the throne. "I am Lilith Morningstar," she announced with a graceful nod towards the demons bowing at her feet. The revered queen's figure shone eerily in hell's unforgiving fires, embodying the power and personhood that once belonged solely to Lucifer. Indeed, masculinity and mind swapped for femininity and grace, chessmaster’s humor for the queen’s reverence. Lilith Morningstar was not just a transformation, but a resurrection.