The Metamorphosis: From Innocence to Inferno - A Boy's Journey into the World of Lucifer Morningstar

Gazing up at his mediocre bedroom, decorated with action figures and a hand-drawn poster of superheroes, a ten-year old boy, cherished a peaceful life devoid of all supernatural vibes. But little did he know, ordinary was the last word that would describe his world soon. The initial occurrence was subtle, a slight shiver down his spine that jerked him out of his comic book. Unsettled, his innocent eyes began to spot changes in his room, the toys transforming into demonic figurines, the walls manifesting into a gothic and dark aesthetic. His superhero-poster was no more, replaced by a fine painting of a whimsical gentleman in a high-collar suit, looking eerily identical to his own reflection. Slowly, the thin lines of his boyish body began to fill out, bones stretching in rapid succession, jolting him upright. Fear shot through his veins as he hastily glanced at his reflection, observing a mature face mirrored back. Unfamiliarity sunk in, the boy he was, rapidly phasing out. His skin began to lose its warm tinge, replastered with a pure white tone, matching the color of the apparitional gentleman in the painting. Blonde hair sprouted atop his head, far from his original brunette strand. Thick black eyebrows sprouted over his terrifying yellow eyes marked with slitted red pupils, oozing an aura he could only define as demonic. Incipient fear pervaded his mind as his clothes began to adhere to the unfamiliar gentleman's style, a white high collar suit draping his maturing body, his feet slipping into high-heeled boots the length of his knee. The clothes felt strangulating. With a plea for help on his lips, he reached for the telephone, dialing his parents' number repetitively. "No use in resisting, child, you're becoming me, becoming Lucifer," echoed a voice within his head, jaunty yet menacing. The boy cried out in protest, grasping his transforming face – no ears, no nostrils; less human, more monstrous. Tears blended with the paint of black lips and mouth filled with sharp teeth. His mental transition was even more excruciating. Memories of him playing in the park, enjoying his mother's homemade apple pie, all started to fade away. They were replaced with Lucifer’s centuries-old memory, a constant battle with Hell's politics and a despicable love for polka music slowly becoming his reality. He felt his height progressing, his surroundings contorting, his reality morphing as the Hazbin Hotel world swallowed him whole. He was no longer a boy of ten years. His world was no longer Earthly paradise. Time seemed to have twisted itself in a nightmarish loop, making him the immortal King of Hell, stuck in a perpetual trance of regality and menace. As the last ounce of his human memory faded, he startled himself by laughing at a bad pun that popped up in his mind. He found himself engaging in a heated conversation with a memory of Lilith Morningstar. His wife. The thought was strange, yet strangely comfortable. "Welcome home, Lucifer," he spoke to himself, staring into his now fully transformed eyes in the mirror. Strangely enough, the echoes of a ten-year-old boy were fading. His life seemed dedicated to being Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. He smiled, a quirky grin spreading across his unfamiliar features, picking up his new cane with a newfound girth. With a deep breath, he strolled towards the mirror, ready to confront his unanticipated destiny. The laughter of a boy echoed faintly within him, fading away into the abyss of his mind, replaced entirely by the King of Hell’s memories. As he stepped out of his room, the boy was no more, making way for the quirky yet fearsome Lucifer Morningstar, arm-in-arm with his destiny, ready to rule Hell once again.