You come to in your bedroom, but everything feels… grand. Your ribs feel oddly light. Your arms feel longer, and when you stretch, a strange weight settles on your shoulders — wings maybe?

You stand and stagger to a mirror. The figure staring back is Lucifer Morningstar: pale ivory skin with rosy cheeks, slicked-back blonde hair with coral streaks, serpent-slit pupils in bright yellow sclera. You wear a crisp white suit with red trim, a wide-brimmed top hat crowned with a golden snake and red apple, slick black boots, and carry an apple-topped cane.

Your voice comes out confident, theatrical — yet when you speak, your mind is yours.

“oh fuck! oh crap! oh shit!”

A knock on the door. Your roommate pokes their head in, jaw dropped.

Roommate: “Uh, wow — you… you look like Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel. Is this, like, for Halloween or something?”

You lift your cane, let the full weight of your new form sink in.

“uhmmm.... no.”

You take a steady breath. With Lucifer’s body comes his power, his burden, and his sin. He’s been called the King of Hell, the Sin of Pride. You feel his ambition under your skin, his longing, his guarded vulnerability.

“Alright… let’s see what I can do with this.”

You smooth your coat, lift your chin — and step into your day as Lucifer: power, pride, and a voice that carries both command and regret.