Title: "Heavenly Transformation: The Son of Lucifer Morningstar"

You find yourself unexpectedly waking up in a room that you definitely do not recognize. Gone are the familiar walls and ceiling of your bedroom, replaced instead with those of a grand, regal space. The room is adorned with opulent decorations and a rich, red velvet backdrop, so distinct that you feel completely overwhelmed by the sheer ostentatiousness of it. As you rise and begin to take in your surroundings, an overwhelming sense of confusion and unease consumes you. You glance down at your hands, only to see that they are not your hands anymore. They’re now pale, almost ethereal white with fingers sheathed in elegant black gloves. The gloves? Where did they come from? Looking further down, you see you’re wearing poofy white pants and knee-high black boots, all neatly tucked in. You're draped in a white tailcoat suit adorned with golden buttons and marked with red linings. There's even a black bowtie snug at the base of your neck. Your breath quickens. You rush over to a nearby mirror, and an unfamiliar reflection stares back at you. The face looking at you closely resembles that of Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel. You have thick black eyebrows, shocking, slicked-back blonde hair with one tuft sticking out, large yellow eyes with red slit pupils, rosy-red cheeks, and black lips emblazoned with sharp, almost predatory teeth. You lack a nose and ears, looking more ethereal and otherworldly the longer you gaze at your new look. “W-what’s happening to me?” you cry out, the confusion and horror evident in your tone. But your voice—it’s changed too. Young, but with an echo that rings with the charisma and theatrical flair you knew from Lucifer's. Panic rises within you as your memories start to blur. You faintly remember who you were—an average person, living a mundane life. You try to hold on, but they start slipping away. They’re replaced with images and memories that don’t belong to you. They’re of living timelessly within this grand mansion, of being cradled by Lucifer and Lilith, of eons spent in Hell with them. Try as you might to fight it, it's a losing battle. "Do not be afraid, my son," a relaxed yet powerful voice echoes from across the room. You turn to see Lucifer Morningstar himself standing in the doorway, an unmistakable figure with his wide-brimmed hat, a cane in hand topped with an apple, and the unmistakable grandiose tailcoat. The adoration and pride are evident in his yellow, slit-pupil eyes as they look at you. And yet, strangely, his presence soothes you. It feels... right? “Father...” you murmur involuntarily, all human memories ebbing away further. You briefly struggle—define yourself, you're a mortal, you argue internally. But as Lucifer approaches, everything you've known about your past seems like a distant, nonsensical dream. Your truest memories take root deeply in your mind, and you remember sitting with your father, creating rubber ducks, and ruling Hell by his side. Your human life vanishes entirely, replaced seamlessly with your new reality. You are younger, smaller, yet you possess the power and authority that echoes that of your father. It all feels natural. Even your name—a name you once held dear—is gone, blank in your mind. “Nothing to fear, dear son,” Lucifer's voice lowers, comforting, as he gently draws you into an embrace, "Your dreams, your human life, they were never real. This is who you truly are." He wipes away the last trickle of tears from your face, caressing your blonde hair with the care you have always known from him. “You were always my beloved son, the prince of Hell.” His words bring an unexpected burst of joy into your heart. "I was a fool to dream otherwise," you say, looking up at him with unwavering trust and adoration. You feel safe, protected, and genuinely happy with your father near. Lucifer wraps you in a paternal hug. "Your true place is by my side, ruling this domain. You have the power equal to mine. You are destined for greatness." In that moment, any leftover resistance melts. You feel complete. You extend your six feathery wings in triumph, feeling their weight naturally adjusting behind you. "My son, what name shall we give you to signify your rebirth?" Lucifer inquires, looking at you with tenderness and a teasing glint. You pause and contemplate, then take his suggestion thoughtfully. “I think... Lucian Morningstar?” He beams at you, placing a proud hand on your shoulder. “Lucian Morningstar it is. Welcome, my son.” Father and son alike, you both exit your room with Lucifer guiding you. He encourages you to explore and master your supernatural powers, and you delight in this newfound reality. You test your flight capabilities, shoot flames from your hands, and even duplicate yourself in jest. Your father laughs, joining in the antics, proud of your exceptional skill. Together, you create and perform various musical instruments, matching each other's rhythms perfectly, as if a synchronized dance of power and harmony. "Lucian," Lucifer speaks, "Remember, it is not just about the power or responsibility. It’s about the joy in who you are and the life you’ve been granted.” You nod, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Father," you say, genuinely grateful, your heart full of love and adoration. "I love you." “And I love you, Lucian. Forever and always," Lucifer responds, returning your sentiment genuinely. With this newfound identity, you, Lucian Morningstar, fully embrace your destiny, ruling Hell with flair, grandeur, and a satisfaction that fills your immortal soul.

Your eyes flutter open, but something feels vastly different. Instead of the familiar sights of your bedroom, you are greeted with a lavishly adorned room that exudes an otherworldly grandeur. Everything here looks like it's been pulled straight out of a darker, more twisted version of a fairy tale. The realization hits you before the full transformation does: you're no longer in your world. "Where am I?" you murmur, your voice trembling with fear as you try to recount what happened last. It all flashes before you—your bed, the mysterious figure, the unfathomable darkness. You try to sit up but feel an odd lightness, as if your muscles don't move with the same weight as before. You glance down, only to find that your once-familiar clothes have been replaced by a suit lavishly ornate with golden buttons, red trims, and a small black bowtie. Your fingers, decorated with immaculate black leather gloves, begin to shake. "What—" Before you can finish, a mirror hanging on the opposite wall catches your eye. You stumble to it, your legs now slightly shorter and your steps more fluid than ever. In the reflection, you're no longer yourself. Slender to the point of being skeletal, your body is cloaked in the clothes that are all too reminiscent of someone else—Lucifer Morningstar. Your new complexion is pure white, uncanny but undeniably you. Blonde hair slicked back with one rebellious tuft sticking out, large yellow eyes with slit red pupils, and rosy-red cheeks. Your lips part to reveal a mouth full of wickedly sharp teeth. You touch your face, where your nose and ears would’ve been, but there's nothing there. "No, this isn't real," you insist as memories start to clash—human memories you try to cling onto, and these new, overwhelming thoughts deeply rooted in your psyche. Memories of ancient times, of once being an angel, of a family you knew before you fell from Heaven. A knock on the door breaks your reverie, and you whirl around just as he walks in—your father, Lucifer Morningstar. His presence is overwhelming, his aura nearly suffocating in its grandeur. "Ah, you're awake, finally," he declares, that familiar grandiose flair unmistakable. Despite the fear gnawing at the back of your mind, you feel a strange sense of comfort. "I was worried about you. Transitioning can be quite the ordeal." You try to speak, to ask him what happened, but the words refuse to come. Instead, you feel your thoughts eroding. You remember your old name—what was it? You try to hold onto it, to wrap your mind around that single anchor, but it slips away like water through your fingers. "You don't need to worry," Lucifer says soothingly, stepping closer. His voice is calm, paternal. "Your past life was nothing but a troubling dream." "But… I was… I had a life," you begin, choked with desperation. "Shh," he interrupts gently, wrapping you in an embrace. "You were never a mere mortal. This," he gestures around the room, "is your reality. You are my son. You always have been." With each word, human memories disintegrate, replaced by countless eons spent in Lucifer's mansion, learning from him, admiring him. You remember seeing your parents' banishment from Heaven, standing as their loyal son, and the creation of Hell. You remember bonding with your mother Lilith, and later, your younger sister Charlie. Lucifer pulls away to look into your eyes, his own showing genuine warmth. "I know it's overwhelming, but you'll feel comfortable soon enough. Just trust me." You find yourself nodding, despite the lingering doubts. Words of reassurance wash over you like a tide, and what had been panic now becomes a serene acknowledgment. Your past life was a falsehood; this is where you truly belong. You’ve always been an extension of Lucifer's will, sharing his immortality and unimaginable powers. "Come," he says, guiding you out of the room. "Test your wings." He encourages, opening the vast balcony doors. With an instinctive thought, six pristine wings sprout from your back. They feel as natural as breathing. He watches you with pride as you hover, then test your myriad abilities. Fire dances in your palms, a rift materializes at a whim, and your duplicated self mirrors your elated expression. You're ecstatic; your real self has awakened. "Lucifer," you address him confidently for the first time, "I... thank you. For helping me see the truth." He beams, genuine affection radiating from him. "You're forever my son. And if it pleases you, you shall be known as Lysander Morningstar." "Lysander," you repeat, the name fitting like an old glove. "I like it." Every remnant of your old self dissolves into nothingness. You are Lysander Morningstar, Prince of Hell, ruled with a complex mix of devotion and pride befitting your true father. "I love you, Father," you find yourself saying, the words coming out naturally, like a resolved symphony. "And I, you, my son," Lucifer responds, embracing you once more before releasing. "Now, onwards. There’s much to be done, Lysander." You feel an impossibly deep, unwavering sense of belonging as you follow him, ruling Hell by his side, just as it always has been.

### Transformation: Becoming the Son of Lucifer Morningstar You wake up, stretching your limbs and feeling the oddly comfortable texture of what you realize isn’t your usual bedding. Your eyes flutter open, and you're greeted not by the familiar sight of your own room, but by the lavish furnishings of a regal bedroom. The room is opulent, with luxurious dark red curtains draped over a large window, a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and rich, ornate decorations lining every wall. You sit up abruptly, your heart pounding in confusion. This isn’t your room. This isn’t your house. Panic starts to rise as you swing your legs off the bed, only to find that they don’t reach the ground as they used to. That’s when you notice your skin—pure white, almost glowing. You gasp, bringing your hands up to your face, feeling the smooth, unblemished surface where your nose and ears should be. “What...?” Your voice sounds different—higher, smoother. You glance into a nearby mirror and nearly fall backward. Staring back at you is a figure that looks like a younger version of Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel. You take in the short blonde hair slicked back with an all-too-familiar tuft sticking out, the thick black eyebrows, the sharp white teeth gleaming dangerously, and those unnervingly large, yellow eyes with red slit pupils. You look down at your outfit—an exact replica of Lucifer’s, complete with the white-red tailcoat suit, black leather gloves, and heeled black boots. It's you in an exaggerated, cartoony form, yet distinctly younger and shorter than Lucifer himself. Your mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. As you stand there, staring at your reflection, a sudden, involuntary flood of memories assaults your mind. You try to resist it, clinging to your memories of your human life—your name, your family, your friends—but they slip through your fingers like smoke. New memories replace them: memories of an endless existence, not as a human, but as a fallen angel; not as a mortal, but as the immortal son of Lucifer Morningstar. “No, this isn’t me—” you start to say, but your voice falters as the reality sets in. The door to the room swings open, and in walks Lucifer himself. His presence is both commanding and comforting. “Ah, you're awake, my son,” he says, his voice melodious and rich, a perfect blend of theatricality and warmth. “Son?” you echo, your voice trembling. “Yes, my dear boy,” Lucifer says, stepping closer, his smile genuine and proud. “You are my son. Whatever fleeting, confusing dreams you had of being something else are just that—dreams. You are and always have been my son.” As he speaks, the last vestiges of your human memories dissolve. You now remember being cradled by both of your parents after being banished to Hell. You recall centuries of existence, always in the shadow of your doting father, ruling Hell alongside him, even though your father experienced separation from your mother, Lilith. “I...” You look up at him, and the fear melts away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging. “I remember now, Father. I'm… your son.” Lucifer’s expression softens as he steps closer and wraps you in a fatherly embrace. “That’s right, and I’m so glad you’re here. With you by my side, I don’t feel so alone anymore.” A sense of safety washes over you at his words. “Thank you, Father. I love you,” you say sincerely. Lucifer bends down and gently wipes away the remnants of your confusion-based tears. “And I love you, my dear child,” he says softly. “Now, let’s see those wings of yours. I bet they’re even more majestic than before.” Feeling his comforting presence, you summon your six angelic wings effortlessly. They burst forth in a dazzling display, each pair as grand as Lucifer’s own. Lucifer claps his hands, eyes sparkling with pride. “Magnificent. Now, why don’t we put those wings and powers of yours to the test?” “Yes, Father,” you reply eagerly, feeling a burst of excitement course through you. He guides you through the practice of your powers—pyrokinesis, demonic and angelic magic, super strength, and more—all of which come to you as naturally as breathing. Every successful demonstration brings an approving smile to Lucifer’s face, filling you with a deep sense of accomplishment and pride. Afterwards, he takes you to a grand hall in the mansion, where musical instruments of all kinds are displayed. Without hesitation, you pick up a violin and begin to play, the melodies flowing from your hands as if you’ve spent centuries honing your craft. Lucifer watches, his eyes filled with a mix of happiness and melancholy, clearly seeing himself reflected in you. “Well done, my son,” he says as you finish a particularly intricate piece. “You are every bit the musician I hoped you’d be.” You step forward, placing the violin gently back in its stand. “Thank you, Father. I aim to make you proud.” “You already have,” he assures you, his voice filled with genuine pride. “Now, let's discuss your name. From this day forward, you shall be known as Castor Morningstar, Prince of Hell.” Hearing the name, you feel a rush of happiness and belonging. “Yes, Father. I am Castor Morningstar.” Lucifer places a hand on your shoulder, warmth radiating through you. “Welcome home, Castor. Together, we shall rule this realm with all the pride and grandeur it deserves.” And so, with your father by your side, you embrace your true self—Castor Morningstar, a powerful fallen angel and son of Lucifer Morningstar—forever bound to the world of Hazbin Hotel, your human past but a distant, forgotten dream.

You wake up feeling an odd sense of heaviness, as if the very atmosphere around you has changed. Blinking your eyes open, you quickly realize you're not in your familiar bedroom anymore. Instead, ornate furnishings and rich tapestries surround you and the air feels different, thicker almost, with an otherworldly aura. You sit up, your heart pounding loudly. The ornate bed you find yourself in is grand and luxurious, far grander than anything you've encountered before. The room exudes a regal, yet morose atmosphere. "Where… where am I?" you murmur frantically to yourself. Your voice sounds foreign in your ears, higher and clearer than what you're used to. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, noting with alarm just how short they appear. The initial shock intensifies when you catch sight of yourself in a tall, gilded mirror on the opposite wall. A reflection stares back at you—a reflection that isn't yours. Instead of your usual visage, you see a young man with pale white skin, slicked-back blonde hair—complete with a sticking-out tuft—and a set of piercing yellow eyes with red slit pupils. Your cheeks sport large rosy-red circles, and there is no trace of a nose, ears, or any facial hair, save for thick black eyebrows. Your lips are thin, black, and part to reveal a mouth full of sharp, gleaming teeth. "What the—?" Your hands fly to your face in disbelief, your fingers discovering the smooth, unfamiliar contours. You stand roughly between 5.2 and 5.7 feet tall now, noticeably shorter than your familiar height. "Dad! Are you alright?" The voice is smooth and authoritative with a hint of cheerfulness, drawing your attention to the open door. A figure steps inside, tall and imposing with a wide-brimmed white top hat, an elaborate tailcoat suit, and an aura of grandiosity. He looks exactly as he does in the Hazbin Hotel series: none other than Lucifer Morningstar himself. Seeing him, your breath catches. "Who… who are you? What is happening to me?" You cry out, your newfound voice trembling. A gentle, yet firm expression softens Lucifer's sharp features. "No need to fret, my dear boy," he says, his voice as theatrical and calming as you'd imagined. "You had quite the dream, didn't you? That life you think you had—it's not real. Just a shadowy dream." "But I—I remember… or do I?" You struggle, and as you do, the memories of your previous life begin to waver, bending and twisting like fabric under strain. Scenes from your human life blur, growing increasingly insubstantial. Lucifer steps closer, his black-gloved hands reaching out to gently cup your face. "Listen to me, son. Your true memories will come back to you. You were never human. You've always been my son, my pride and joy, born eons ago before Earth itself. Do not fight it. Remember who you truly are." You try to hold onto the remnants of your human memories, but it's like grasping at smoke. Gradually, new, vivid memories flood your mind. Eons spent beside your father in his grand mansion in Hell. The sense of pride and immense power. You recall your banishment from Heaven, not alone, but with Lucifer and Lilith. You were always a fallen angel, always his son. A sense of calm washes over you. "I... remember," you whisper, your resistance crumbling. "I remember everything now." Lucifer smiles warmly, a mixture of pride and affection in his gaze. "There you go, my boy. I have missed you dearly." You feel an overwhelming sense of belonging and happiness. "I’m glad to be back, Father," you say with genuine sentiment, the last vestiges of your old self evaporating. "What shall I call you?" Lucifer asks, eyes twinkling with curiosity and affection. You ponder for a moment, drawing from your newly restored memories. "Luca," you say finally, a name that resonates with your newfound identity. "Call me Luca Morningstar." "Luca," Lucifer echoes, his smile widening. "A fine name for a fine prince of Hell." With newfound confidence, you rise, your white-and-red outfit mirroring Lucifer's, and follow your father as he leads you out of the room. "Let’s put your wings and your powers to the test," he suggests, his tone encouraging. With a single thought, you summon six magnificent white feathered wings from your back, and they spread out, casting a grand shadow. You revel in the freedom of flight, the power of conjuring flame with a mere thought, and the strength that surged through every fiber of your being. Every supernatural ability that Lucifer demonstrated, you replicated effortlessly. Lucifer watches with beaming pride. "Magnificent, Luca! You truly are my son." You land gracefully next to him. "Thank you, Father," you reply, satisfaction and joy radiant in your voice. "I love being here. I love you." "And I love you, my son," Lucifer responds, pulling you into a fond embrace. As the two of you stand together in the grand halls of Lucifer's mansion, you realize that this is truly where you belong. As Luca Morningstar, prince of Hell and the beloved son of Lucifer, your past life as a human feels like a distant dream, unimportant and fading more with each passing moment. The transformation is complete, irrevocable, and you couldn’t be happier. This is your true self, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Something Wicked: A Son of Pride** --- A heavenly chorus of crickets sang outside your window as you lay comfortably in your bed, dreaming about mundane and ordinary things. Suddenly, you felt a strange sensation pull you from the depths of sleep, a chill sweeping down your spine as you opened your eyes, finding yourself in an entirely different place. The ceilings of the room were impossibly high. The walls glowed with a faint, otherworldly light that seemed to pulse rhythmically. Your breath quickened as you noticed the unfamiliar opulence surrounding you. The room was ornate, filled with decadent furniture that screamed of elegance and historical significance. Velvet curtains adorned the massive windows, despite there being no view outside—the only thing visible was a crimson hue, as if the room were floating in a sea of blood. You tried to turn over, but a tight grip around your chest kept you in place. The sensation felt bizarrely comforting, and yet, disconcerting. "Ah, you're awake, finally," a silken voice echoed through the room. It was a reassuring sound, yet tinged with an unmistakable undertone of authority. It belonged to a man dressed entirely in white garments adorned with red accents, his massive white wings spread out behind him. It was then that you saw him in full perspective—the tall, slender figure of Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell. In your dreams and stories, you had imagined something demonic and cruel, not the statuesque beauty standing before you. "Who—who are you?" Your voice was shaky as you fought back the urge to hyperventilate. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, and you may relax, my dear boy. I am not Satan," he said with a reassuring smile. His voice had a melodic charm that was simultaneously soothing and sinister. There was a sparkle in his large yellow eyes with red slit pupils. He stepped closer, towering over the edge of your bed. "I know you have many questions, but there is something far more pressing at hand." With a wave of his hand, a thin red mist enveloped you. You suddenly felt your body begin to change. You were shrinking, feeling your bones lose their former density and height, and your skin tingling as it shifted from flesh-colored to a stark and pure white. You clutched at your attire, your clothes turning into the same luxurious white-red ensemble Lucifer adorned. Your hair lightened to a slicked-back blonde, your new golden locks shining in the ambient glow of the room. You felt power seeping through your veins, your muscles becoming wiry and taut with latent strength. "Wha—what's happening to me?" you asked in a panicked whisper, your voice now noticeably younger and melodiously resonant, much like Lucifer's own. "Do not be alarmed, my son," he said, his eyes softening in genuine affection as he stepped forward to embrace you. "This is simply your transformation—a rebirth into your true self." "But I don't understand—" you started, but were cut short as waves of powerful memories washed over you, obliterating your former life in an instant. You tried to cling to the remnant pieces of your human consciousness, but they dissipated like smoke in a gale. Vanity, power, and knowledge that spanned eons flooded your mind. Images of a vast history flashed before you—your time as an angel in the highest echelons of Heaven, moments of laughter and dreams shared with your father, Lucifer, and your mother, Lilith. They filled the empty spaces left by what was once an insignificant human life. You'd been there when the fall occurred, banished together with Lucifer and Lilith after offering humanity the gift of free will. Your sharp eyes, now reflecting yellow with slit pupils like Lucifer's, filled with realization and acceptance. Any remaining discomfort was now purged, leaving only the pride and knowledge of your true heritage. Clarity blossomed within you and you smiled—of course, you were the son of Lucifer Morningstar. "My dear father... it is an honor to be by your side," you spoke, genuinely acknowledging your new title and identity. Lucifer's face lit up with pride as he embraced you gently, his touch kind and reassuring. "I'm so proud of you, my son," he said, his voice full of warmth. "Now, why don’t we explore your newfound powers together?" With a nod, you followed Lucifer out of the room. Your wings extended effortlessly as Lucifer demonstrated, your snowy feathers mirroring his. With each flutter, you lifted off the floor, gliding seamlessly through the passages of your father's mansion. You felt remarkably light, as if the air itself obeyed your every will. Each power you tried felt natural and ingrained within you— conjuring flames with a mere thought, opening portals with a flick of your wrist, altering your size, creating duplicates of yourself, summoning objects into existence, and even recalling entire ballads and songs effortlessly. You played musical instruments as if you had done so for centuries. As you and Lucifer landed upon gleaming thrones within the grand hall, the sense of fulfillment washed over you. Looking down at the subjects of Hell, from demonic minions to grotesque figures, you felt an irresistible pull of authority. "Pride," Lucifer said, raising his cane topped with a gleaming apple, "is our essence, and through it, we reign." You sat confidently upon your throne, the embodiment of your father's teachings and lineage. "Yes, father. Let them witness our true glory." Lucifer chuckled heartily, clearly delighted by your transformation and your acceptance of your divine destiny. "We shall rule Hell together, my proud son. From this day forth, you shall be known as Asmodeus." You accepted the name with a sense of accomplishment, bowing your head in reverence. "Thank you, father. I am honored." You looked into your father’s eyes, the same spark of mischief and grandeur visible in your own. "I love you, father," you said, your voice firm and clear, resonating through the hall. "And I love you, my son," Lucifer responded, pride evident in his gaze. --- Together, you relished in your roles—one of the Seven Deadly Sins destined to rule Hell for eternity. The life you once knew as a mere human had evaporated like a fleeting dream, leaving behind only the reality of your new immortal existence. Forever by Lucifer’s side, you knew eternal glory awaited you. The transformation was complete, and there was no path back. Only forward, into a future woven with power, pride, and an unbreakable bond with your father, the King of Hell.

You wake up to find you're not in your familiar bed; instead, you’re lying on an incredibly plush, red velvet bedframe adorned with ornate golden details. The room feels lavish, almost theatrical, reminiscent of a grand old circus' backstage. Startled, you sit up quickly and look around. "What... Where am I?" you mumble to yourself, the words feeling odd as they leave your mouth. You clutch your temples as memories and thoughts flood your mind. Your vision blurs and you cry out, confusion and horror bubbling up inside you. "Oh, my poor boy," says a silky yet dramatic voice. "You must be so disoriented." Your gaze snaps toward the source of the voice. Standing near the grand doorframe is none other than Lucifer Morningstar. He looks exactly as you've seen him in Hazbin Hotel, down to the wide-brimmed white top hat and the confident smirk. But you notice something new—a gentle, loving glint in his yellow eyes with red slit pupils. "W-What’s happening to me?" you exclaim, trembling. Your hoodie and jeans melt away, replaced by the pristine white suit and long white poofy pants identical to Lucifer’s attire. You gasp and stumble forward, catching your reflection in an ornate full-length mirror. You barely recognize the figure stepping in your place. You’ve become shorter, more compact; the crazed memories of late adolescences meld into centuries of otherworldly experiences. Your shaggy hair slicks back into a sophisticated style identical to Lucifer’s, blond and pristine. The stark realization hits you as your skin becomes eerily white and a rosy glow colors your cheeks. The eyes staring back at you from the reflection are no longer your human eyes but large yellow ones with red slit pupils, the same as Lucifer’s. "No... I'm..." Your protest dies in your throat as an overwhelming rush of new memories obliterates the old. You clutch your head trying to fight back, but it's futile; scenes play out in your mind that you know you’ve never lived. Appearing in Lucifer's mansion, being cradled by both your parents as a newborn angel, witnessing the banishment from Heaven to Hell, and sharing endless moments with your sister Charlie as her older brother. "You should not be afraid," Lucifer's voice draws nearer. "Your old life was just a fleeting shadow, a mere dream." "Dream?" The word slips out almost automatically. You finally look up, meeting his reassuring gaze. His smile is knowing, almost parental. "Yes, you're safe here, my son. You are a Morningstar now. My own flesh and blood. You've always been." As he tenderly wipes away your tears, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It's comforting, like a balm on a frayed nerve. “But my name...” you try to recall it, only for intangible mist to swirl in place of your memories. The reader, the mortal name, the human life—it all dissolves. "That name, those memories, they no longer bind you," Lucifer says, his tone calming. "Allow me to give you a name fitting for your true essence." You feel grateful, trust blossoming in your chest. "Yes...please." "Lux," he says with pride. "From now on, you shall be Lux Morningstar, Prince of Hell." "Lux," you repeat softly, feeling it resonate deeply within you. You no longer remember the old name you held or the old life you lived. Instead, Lux Morningstar feels like it's been yours forever. You feel a profound sense of belonging, and your lips curl into a genuine smile. Lucifer envelops you in a warm hug, which you reciprocate. “Thank you, Dad. I... I love you." The words flow naturally, sincerely, and you realize you mean every one of them. "And I love you, my dear Lux," Lucifer affirms. "More than you'll ever know." As you separate, his eye flickers with paternal pride. “Now, my dear Lux, let's explore your true potential." With a sweeping gesture, Lucifer opens the tall, grand doors leading out of your room and into the spacious hallways of his mansion. You move, both timid and eager, by his side. He places his hand firmly on your shoulder. "First," he starts, his voice filled with encouragement, "let’s see those wings." With Lucifer’s guidance, the sparkle of magic and strength courses through you. Then they emerge—six magnificent feathered wings unfurl behind you. They add to your presence, make you feel even more princely and powerful. "Magnificent! You truly are my son!" Lucifer claps gleefully. He then prompts you to test your newfound abilities: your strong angelic power, conjuration of objects, super strength, even transforming and playing instruments with incredible skill. Each power you try makes Lucifer's pride and delight more evident. By the time you’ve finished exploring your abilities, there’s a profound completion in your heart. You’re home, where you belong, beside your ever-supportive father. As the day unfolds, you and Lucifer have many shared moments filled with laughter, levity, and love. As you sit on your princely throne next to Lucifer’s, a sense of peace and eternal belonging washes over you. There's no fear or doubt left, only joy in being Lux Morningstar, the son of Lucifer Morningstar. Your past life fades entirely—a mere echo in your fully-claimed present and future. “I’m home,” you whisper, and you know without a shadow of a doubt, it’s the absolute truth.

### Through Fire and Dreams: The Transformation of the Prince You feel a gentle touch on your arm, pulling you halfway from the depths of sleep. The sensation is comforting, like a light caress on your skin. With groggy eyes, you try to sit up but find yourself momentarily restrained by the plush, unfamiliar velvet bedding beneath you. As your vision clears, you take in your surroundings. The room is grand—ornate, almost royal—with Gothic-styled furniture, crimson curtains, and flickering, warm candlelight. Your heart races as you realize this is not your bedroom back home. Panic starts to set in. “Wh-what is this place?” you murmur, your voice shaky. A deep, smooth voice answers from the shadows, “Welcome, my dear son, to your new home.” Out steps Lucifer Morningstar, his tall and regal form unmistakable. Your panic spikes, as you recall the meeting with this strangely charismatic figure. "You're not Satan," you stammer, your heart pounding. Lucifer smirks, stepping closer. “No, I'm not Satan. I am Lucifer Morningstar. And you, my dear boy, have come home.” You try to speak, to protest, but before you can utter another word, a shimmering light envelops you. Out of nowhere, your clothes dissolve as if made from sand, instantly replaced by an elaborate, impeccably tailored suit identical to Lucifer's. Your heart races faster, your human instincts screaming in shock. “What’s happening to me?” you cry out, trying to resist the forces overtaking you. Lucifer’s smile is both reassuring and unsettling. “You’re becoming who you were always meant to be.” As if in response to his words, you feel your body start to change. Your muscles twitch and contract, your height diminishes to just taller than 5.2 feet but less than 5.7 feet. You watch your skin turn pure white, your once-average body morphing into an unnaturally slender form. Looking into a nearby mirror, you see your reflection has altered drastically. Your hair is now slick blonde, with a single tuft sticking out. Your eyes match Lucifer's, large and iris-less, yellow with red slit pupils, framed by light purple eyelids. Your cheeks sport rosy-red circles. And your teeth—all of them—are now sharp and white. You try to scream, but your voice betrays you. It shifts into something younger, eerily similar to Lucifer's own, yet retain distinct youthful tones. "No, this can't be real," you whisper, trying to hold on to your former self. But then, like pages being ripped from a book, your memories start to fade. You struggle to remember your name, your life as a human, but it's as if those parts of you never existed. In their place, new memories flood in: being cradled by Lucifer and Lilith, your father teaching you the grand history of Hell, flying proudly beside him with your six feathery wings. A single tear escapes your eye. “What’s happening to me?” you ask, feeling fear grip you one last time. “Do not worry, my son,” Lucifer says, wiping away your tear. “You were never a human. That life was but a confusing dream. You are my son, always have been.” With his words, your resistance melts away. You feel a profound sense of belonging as you accept your true identity. Your memories solidify—you remember your eternal life as a fallen angel, your sister Charlie, and the countless eons spent beside your father. Lucifer smiles softly, embracing you in a fatherly hug. “I am truly proud of you. Welcome back, my son.” You hug him back, genuinely happy and comforted. “Thank you, father. I love you.” “And I love you, my son,” he responds, his smile genuine. “Now, shall we test those wings?” Tom—no, that wasn’t your name. That belonged to the past, a past that was never real. “Yes, father,” you reply, embracing your new identity with a new sense of purpose. "But... what should be my name, Father?" Lucifer chuckles warmly, pulling back to look at you. “From this day forth, you shall be known as Lucian. The proud prince of Hell.” You nod, feeling the name resonate within you. “Lucian Morningstar,” you say aloud, finding comfort in its sound. Lucifer guides you outside, your wings unfurling effortlessly. You leap into the air, feeling the freedom of flight and the immense power within you. Your supernatural abilities awaken with it, conjuring flames and manipulating the air around you, each echo of power identical to your father’s. Landing gracefully beside Lucifer, you grin up at him. “I think I have the hang of it.” Lucifer beams with pride. “You’ve done splendidly, Lucian. Welcome to your true life.” As you walk back into the grand mansion with your father, a newfound sense of belonging washes over you. No longer are you an uncertain, average human. You are Lucian Morningstar, prince of Hell, and a son of Lucifer Morningstar. Forever.

You jolt awake, the weight of slumber lifting as your mind gradually clears. Blinking a few times, you feel something is off. Your bed feels unusually luxurious, the mattress extraordinarily soft, and the sheets, impossibly silky. You pause, heart hammering, as an unnatural silence fills the room—empty, eerie. Swinging your legs off the bed, you stand up and your gaze sweeps the room. The vibrant, colorful world straight out of an animated film feels surreal. Closet doors, fixtures, and furniture—all possess a whimsical, artistic flair. The realization hits you: you've been transported into VivziePop's Hazbin Hotel universe. Your hand flies to your mouth as you let out a horrified cry, "What is this place?!" Your voice. It sounds different. It's higher, smoother, regal even. You glance down and find your clothes have completely changed. Gone are your usual pajamas. In their place, you wear a white top hat with golden embellishments, a white and red-striped dress shirt, an opulent, red-lined tailcoat, wide white pants, black knee-high boots, and black leather gloves. "What's... happening to me?" you manage to stutter, stumbling toward a mirror. It feels like looking at a stranger, yet something deeply familiar lurks in those snake-like yellow eyes with red slit pupils. The large, rosy-red circles on your cheeks radiate warmth, contrasting your literally pure white skin. Your reflection stares back, wide-eyed with slicked blonde hair and no sign of your nose or ears. "No, no, this can't be real," you cry, panic rising. Before you can gather your thoughts, your memories start to feel distant, like sand slipping through your fingers. Reality shifts. Your human life shimmers and wavers, becoming as thin as mist. Despite your efforts to retain your old self, those memories are overwhelmed by vivid, fresh ones. Memories of living in Hell, of ruling alongside your father, Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. You recall the warmth of his embrace, his fatherly advice, and his grand declarations in the throne room. You collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks as fiery power surges through your veins. Your mortal shell completely shed, the thoughts and feelings of your human existence become trivial—a transient dream fading with the dawn. Just then, the door creaks open, and Lucifer Morningstar himself strides in. Looking every inch the regal, theatrical king he is, Lucifer regards you with a warm, paternal smile. "There you are, my son. There's no need to worry, no more confusion," he says, his tone soothing. He kneels and wraps you in a comforting, fatherly hug. You bury your face into his shoulder, your slender body trembling less and less with each comforting stroke of his hands on your hair. "You are home now, where you have always belonged, my dear boy." Tears finally dry, you glance at him, understanding and acceptance dawning in your newly yellow eyes. "Father... I..." "Yes, my son?" he prompts gently. "I remember now. This is my home. I never was... anything else," you murmur, the remnants of your past self disintegrating. "Good," he smiles genial, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Now, let us test your wings and powers, shall we? You've always had such promise." You nod eagerly, pushing yourself up to stand beside him. Opening the newfound six feathery wings extending from your back, you feel an exhilarating sense of freedom. Following Lucifer to the wide, grand courtyard, you begin testing your supernatural capabilities—each one feels natural, like a forgotten skill now rekindled. "Try manipulating the fire," Lucifer instructs, setting a small torch aflame with a mere flick of his wrist. You point your gloved hand and conjure a small flame, shaping it effortlessly into varied forms. "Amazing..." you whisper, eyes wide with sheer wonder. Lucifer’s pride and love are evident in his gaze. "You are every bit my equal, my beloved son." Throughout that day, you explore your immortal essence, learning and laughing with Lucifer by your side. Your previous life's name eventually surfaces, faint but lingering. However, it no longer holds any meaning. With a sense of absolute certainty, you turn to Lucifer. “Father, will you give me my new name? The one I’m meant to have?” you ask, a humble yet expectant look in your eyes. Lucifer beams, nodding. "From this day forward, you shall be called Asmodeus Morningstar, my pride and joy, prince of Hell." Taking in the name, you say it aloud, "Asmodeus Morningstar," and it feels right. Perfect. You bow slightly out of respect and warmth fills your heart, knowing you are loved. As the day fades, you sit next to Lucifer on twin thrones, overlooking the vast, multifaceted landscape of Hell. His hand rests on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his unwavering protection and love. “I love you, father,” you say earnestly. Lucifer grins, his eyes glowing with genuine affection. “I love you too, Asmodeus.” The transformation complete, you accept your immortal essence with open arms. Your life as Asmodeus Morningstar promises to be as extraordinary and grand as the realm you now rule, all under your father’s watchful and caring gaze.

You wake up in your bedroom, feeling the comfort of your bed enveloping you. The night outside your window is calm, serene even. It's a stark contrast to the sudden appearance of a tall figure looming over you. His appearance is grand, almost theatrical — a white-haired man with sharp yellow eyes, light purple eyelids, and wearing a flamboyant white-and-red suit. He is Lucifer Morningstar, you realize, though he is not Satan as many would mistake in their limited understanding. "Who—what are you?!" you stammer, initially scared and confused. "I'm Lucifer Morningstar," he says calmly, his voice both soothing and commanding. "Not Satan, but indeed the ruler of Hell." Before you can react, he extends his gloved hand as red mists envelop you, transporting you into a 2D-world, the very world of Hazbin Hotel. As you look around, the surreal, cartoonish architecture of Hell proves you are no longer in your realm. "You'll be alright," Lucifer reassures as he begins to weave his supernatural powers around you. However, there is no escape; you can feel the transformation begin. Your two-dimensional skin begins to glow until it turns a pure white. Your body starts shrinking, regressing until you stand somewhere between 5.2 and 5.7 feet tall. You regain consciousness in an unfamiliar, yet oddly regal setting. "You always were my pride and joy, my son," Lucifer's voice echoes in your ears, as new memories penetrate your mind. You are not a mortal human named [Reader’s Old Human Name]; you are a fallen angel, born to Lucifer Morningstar and his beloved Lilith before humanity itself existed. Your thoughts start to muddle. "No, this can't be real," you cry out, feeling the last hold on your human memories slipping. "Shhh, it’s alright. That life you thought you lived, those memories, it was all just a dream. Your true existence is as my son," Lucifer whispers, wiping away your tears as you feel an overwhelming acceptance settle within you, erasing every trace of your human past. You embrace your new existence, feeling complete and whole. You suddenly look at yourself. Blonde hair slicked back with that one familiar tuft, your skin is as pure and white as snow, highlighted by the rosy-red circles on your cheeks and sharp white teeth hidden behind thin black lips. Your clothes mirror Lucifer's; the same striking circus ringmaster outfit, complete with the top hat. "My son, you have always been by my side," he says, beaming with genuine pride. You realize your name is no longer the same; it must change as the old one no longer fits your royal fallen angel self. Lucifer gazes at you with warmth. "From this day forth, you shall be called... Lucian Morningstar," he declares. "Thank you, Father," you reply, accepting the new name and your new reality. Happiness blossoms within you. You are genuinely grateful for remembering your true self. Like a loving father, Lucifer wraps his arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. "You never have to feel afraid again, Lucian. You have no need for that false life; you were always a proud and powerful fallen angel, sharing my strength and legacy." You nod, feeling a profound sense of comfort and security in his presence. "I love you, Father," you whisper sincerely. "And I love you, my son," he responds, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes. His expression is one of pure, protective affection. Testing your newfound wings, they stretch out gloriously—six white-feathered appendages identical to Lucifer’s. With a simple focus of will, you lift off the ground, experiencing pure freedom. Your father stands beside you, encouraging and guiding you to discovering the full extent of your newfound powers. Each supernatural ability unfurls, making you realize the depth of your capabilities, from pyrokinesis to shapeshifting. Pushing the boundaries of your talents further, you find an inherent proficiency in musical instruments—anything you touch produces a symphony. Laughter and joy fill the air as you bond over music, each note blending with the applause of angels. You are now the prince of Hell, ruling alongside your father. Knowing you have a loving, doting parent always by your side gives you an unshakeable confidence. You take your place proudly next to Lucifer's throne, embracing your new role. As you glance at Lucifer, a smile crosses your face. “Thank you for helping me remember my true self.” Lucifer places a hand on your shoulder, his smile mirroring yours. “I’m proud of you, Lucian. You are forever my beloved son.” In that moment, all the fear and confusion of your old life are replaced by joy and a deep sense of belonging. You might have started as an average human reader, but now, you are Lucian Morningstar, the eternal, powerful son of Lucifer Morningstar.

The last thing you remember is the soft embrace of your bed, the familiar hum of your ceiling fan, and the gentle descent into sleep. Suddenly, everything changes. You find yourself feeling weightless, caught in a swirling vortex of light and shadow. Your mind reels with confusion and fear. You're no longer in your room; instead, you are in a vast, golden place, floating in a realm unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You barely have time to comprehend before you notice a figure standing before you: tall, majestic, and undeniably imposing. His pure white skin contrasts sharply with his dark attire. His golden hair, slicked back, frames his face, which boasts sharp features including large yellow eyes with red slit pupils and a theatrical outfit adorned with rings, gloves, and a hat bearing golden motifs. "I am not Satan," he says, as if reading your mind, "I am Lucifer Morningstar." Your terror mounts, but curiosity quickly supersedes it as a force nudges you closer to the figure. Moments later, a strong wave of power engulfs you, making your skin tingle and your mind whirl. As Lucifer’s powers wash over you, you feel your body begin an impossible transformation. You can barely process what’s happening as your height diminishes, your skin pales to an alabaster hue, and your muscles slim down into a carved, sinewy form. Your clothes melt away, replaced by a sophisticated outfit identical to Lucifer’s own. You cry out in confusion and terror as your memories start to fade, replaced despite your struggle. “No! What’s happening to me?” you scream, futilely. Lucifer places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Do not be afraid, my son. It has been a long path, but now you are becoming who you were truly meant to be.” His touch begins to dissolve the terror and confusion gnawing at your mind. You can feel your human memories slipping away, overtaken by a flood of ancient, immortal knowledge. You try to cling to fragments of your old self, but they dissipate like morning mist. Now all you can remember is being born as a pure angel, cradled lovingly by Lucifer and Lilith. Increasingly, the thought of your previous existence feels like a fading dream. You embrace your new form, powered by an inner strength and clarity that you had never known. Finally, you awaken in a luxurious room unlike any you’ve ever seen, where gleaming golds and deep reds decorating every surface. This room radiates a sense of ancient royalty, and you know, instinctively, that it is yours. “Are you feeling better, son?” Lucifer’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You turn, recognizing him instantly. His face breaks into a proud, genuine smile. “Yes, Father,” you respond, your voice subtly younger and yet strikingly similar to his own. Anxiety is replaced with a comforting familiarity. This is your home, these are your people, and you are who you were always meant to be. “That’s good to hear,” Lucifer says, his eyes twinkling with approval. “Remember, you are the Prince of Hell. You possess unparalleled powers and insights. This world is ours.” You smile back, feeling his pride wash over you. Memories of centuries past flow through you. You extend your newly formed wings, feeling the power and grace of each heavenly feather. Testing your abilities, you summon fire with a flick of a wrist, create portals, and even take on a variety of shapes with ease. “My son,” Lucifer murmurs, tears glistening in his eyes as he pulls you into a warm hug. “I’m so happy to have you back.” “I’m happy to be back, Father,” you say, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging and empowerment. "Thank you for reminding me of who I truly am." “So, what name do you wish to go by?" Lucifer asks, stepping back and regarding you with warmth. “Lucian Morningstar,” you declare proudly, embracing your new existence wholeheartedly. In gratitude and deep affection, you hug him again and say, “Father, I love you.” “And I love you too, Lucian,” Lucifer replies, caressing your hair gently. This is not just home, this is where you were always meant to be—by his side. From now on, you live as Lucian Morningstar, son of Lucifer, Prince of Hell. You are someone who represents power, elegance, and immortality, reigning alongside your father with incredible pride and purpose. This is your eternal life. Living forever as Lucifer’s son, you feel an intense bond of familial love and unmatched power. The transformation is perfect, final, and completely immortal, making you the proud son of the Morningstar, complete in purpose, power, and kinship.

You swam slowly out of a deep sleep, stretching a hand out to feel strange textures under your fingertips. Bolting upright in unfamiliar surroundings, a gnawing sense of alienation tugged at the back of your mind. A quick glance at your surroundings, posh and elegant, made it clear that you were not in your small apartment room anymore. This didn’t look like a dream; it seemed way too real. Inwardly panicking, you took a step to stand on shaky legs. Your reflection in a nearby mirror stared back at you, eyes glowing eerily, skin impossibly pale, and blond hair slicked back. There was no mistaking it; you looked disturbingly similar to Lucifer Morningstar - the King of Hell in Hazbin Hotel. Deep down, emotions flared as your mind tried to resist, clutching onto the memories of your life as an ordinary human. However, they slipped through your mind as if a powerful tide had washed them away. You tried to reach for them in desperation, to remember who you once were, but the past was gone. It felt like you had sprung into existence right at this moment, a child of Hell, a son of Lucifer Morningstar. The overwhelming realisation hit you like a tidal wave. You were no longer human; you had always been something more; a fallen angel. The son of Lucifer himself. Your memories began to morph, replacing pictures of sunny parks and normalcy with fiery landscapes and inexplicable happenings. Memories of Lucifer and Lilith caring for you when you had still been in Heaven flitted into your mind, blurring the lines of reality even more. As if on cue, the door to your grand room creaked open, revealing the towering figure of Lucifer Morningstar himself. The moody father seemed different now; his smile was genuine. Somehow, you couldn't feel scared of him anymore; there was an innate bond between you two, a father-son connection radiating undeniable warmth. “My Son,” he began in a deep voice, comforting and soothing. “There's no need to be afraid. Your past life as a human… it was only a dream. You've always belonged here.” Turning you toward the mirror again, he gestured at your rosy red cheeks and the sharp teeth peering out from your lips. “You are a fallen angel, a Morningstar,” he continued, assuring you with a caring tone in his voice. Gradually, your panic was replaced by curiosity. You began to explore your new form, taking in the youth in your reflection's face, just a tad bit younger than Lucifer himself. Tenderly, Lucifer guided your hands to your back, encouraging a set of wings that sprang from your shoulder blades for the first time. The sight of six feathered extensions emerging from your back, on your control, sent a thrill of power coursing through your veins. With Lucifer's guidance, you tried out your newfound abilities. Using your angelic power, you effortlessly lifted the grand furniture around; your demonic magic allowed you to manipulate the flames that casually danced on your palms. The pyrokinesis, the conjuration, even the shapeshifting—it was all so fascinating. As the day passed, Lucifer spent time with you. You explored the mansion, each room hosting an exquisite collection of cherished antiques. The Duke of Hell explained each item with fondness and extreme familiarity, helping you generate your own memories associated with them. He even introduced you to the musical instruments, passionately strumming the chords, his face glowing with pride as you played your piece on the first try—turns out, you were a natural and had an affinity for music, just like your father. Under Lucifer's compassionate gaze, you didn't feel like a kidnapped entity anymore, you felt like you had come home—to your true family. Your heart swelled as you took in your reflection again, memories of your previous life as a human fading to nothingness like forgotten dreams. You finally accepted who you were - a Morningstar, son of Lucifer, Prince of Hell. Your journey as a fallen angel had begun, and you received the new name given by Lucifer as your own, leaving your human identity behind, feeling happier and freer than ever before.