"The Morningstar Twins: A Tale of Transformation and Brotherhood"
0 Points
You barely notice the screen flicker as your finger scrolls past another fan-made image: Lucifer Morningstar as a train, as a dragon, as… something called a “pregnant human woman.” It’s all a bit surreal, but you have to admit, the creativity is impressive. Still, the animated Lord of Hell himself seems far away, trapped in a world of bright colors and adult humor, unable to escape beyond the pixels.
The lights in your room flicker. Too odd! You must be imagining it—the effect of binge-watching too many episodes in a dark room, perhaps.
But then the shadows warp, stretching toward you, coiling in a shimmering, sparkling mist the color of fresh blood and pure gold. Fragrance—overwhelmingly sweet, like caramel apples—fills the air. The screen on your device pulses, stretching outward as if it were made of taffy. A figure steps through reality as simply as passing through a curtain.
He’s not satirical, not a joke—he’s real. Lucifer Morningstar, exactly as you remember from Hazbin Hotel but somehow more, filling your senses with a presence both alarming and magnetic. His pale white skin catches the lamplight, six spectral wings rippling with faint red fire, and his voice—oh, that voice, resonant and unbelievably familiar—vibrates in the very core of your being.
“Ah, finally caught you,” he says dryly, flicking his cane to the side as he glances around your room in obvious distaste. “Now, isn’t this a *delightful* little tapestry of fan fiction and…” —he observes one of your open tabs— “train transformations. How… creative.”
You jump to your feet, instinctively backing away. The room spins and warps as Lucifer steps forward, the shadows in his wake twisting like smoke.
“Humans,” he sighs, and there’s a theatrical pout to his lips. “Always with the transformations. *Me* turning into a bus? I take pride in my identity, thank you very much!” He leans down, his lips curling into a sharp smile. “Let’s see how you like it… on the other side of the mirror.”
A snap of his fingers. The world rushes away.
#
When you can see again, crimson velvet drapes hang along endless halls, and the vast stained-glass windows cast ribbons of rainbow light on ornate black marble. You are standing in the foyer of a mansion you know is not yours—a mansion you recognize instantly, though you have never set foot inside. It’s *his* world. Hazbin Hotel’s reality. Hell, itself.
You open your mouth to scream, but your voice cracks, warbling between your familiar timbre and… something less familiar, deeper, steadier, the faintest musical lilt rippling in its wake.
The air shimmers. You raise your hand, only for it to bloom in size—fingers lengthening, skin bleaching to paper-white, nails sharpening into perfect points. Your body stretches upward; bones shuffle with disquieting ease, vertebrae clicking as you surge upward toward an even six feet tall. Your muscles snap into lean, angular form—a stance more confident and dramatic than you ever dared wear in your human life.
If you’re female, the changes are sharper still. Your chest tingles, then flattens under your hands; your waist broadens, hips narrowing, and a warmth pulses low in your gut—your insides reaching, shifting, rearranging, impossibly inverting, until, with a sudden icy clarity, you realize the organs you once knew are utterly gone, replaced with new masculine anatomy. Your throat prickles, an Adam’s apple sliding into place, and your new voice emerges—so resonant, so absolutely identical to Jeremy Jordan’s portrayal of Lucifer Morningstar that it startles you.
White hands slide to your face. Your features melt and reshape: lips thinning, skull narrowing, ears shrinking away to perfect smoothness, even your *nose* vanishing into an unbroken expanse of flawless pale skin. Your eyelashes flare, painted purple lids arching over eyes that darken to a golden yellow, slit like a viper’s, set off by two stark red circles on your cheeks. Blond hair bursts from your scalp, streaked with faint coral, snapping back into a jaunty slick—and atop it appears a white top hat, trimmed with gold and crowned by an apple.
Your clothes—your ordinary clothes—crumble into flecks of sparkling dust, swirling around you and rearranging themselves with a tactile flourish into fabric: white and red, decadent and sharply tailored. A ring settles on your pinky. A cane appears at your fingertips, apple gleaming atop black.
You shudder. A tickle erupts between your shoulders—wings, six of them, wrenching outward in pure white, catching the light and shimmering, tips edged in red.
Memories flood you. Centuries—no, *eons*—of them: celestial choirs, the halls of Heaven, a bitter fall, pride burned into your every fiber. You struggle, clawing for your old self, your old name, history, passions, and fears—but they are swept away, torn loose and replaced with the tide of expansive arrogance, awkward humor, crushing melancholia, extravagant theatricality, and the weight of being King of Hell. It all pours in, overwhelming, a cascade impossible to resist. You try to say “No,” but the words catch and twist:
“A pleasant little surprise,” you remark to the velvet curtains, finding the words spring to your tongue with practiced grandeur. “But perhaps I should call for—” You stop, confused a moment, as the awareness sharpens: *you are not Lucifer Morningstar*. You are his *identical twin*, always have been, forever will be.
Your new mind races, forming itself in the image of the Morningstar twins. The desire to make rubber ducks, to craft, to sing, to protect a daughter you have always cherished—all of it hums through your rewritten spirit.
A voice, nearly identical to yours, echoes from down the grand staircase. There stands Lucifer Morningstar himself, one brow arched, a wry smile curling over his lips.
“There you are, brother!” he calls, sweeping in a dramatic bow. “Had a nice dream? Pretending to be *one of them*? Ah, hardly befitting for one of *our* blood.”
You look at him—at yourself—and the realization is sweeter than you ever imagined. You have always been here. You were never that fragile human dreamer. The name that forms in your mind is both strange and fitting—*Lucion*, or perhaps *Lucivan*—but in your heart, it is absolutely right.
Lucifer sweeps beside you, looping an arm through yours. His eyes are sparkling with mischief—and a hint of something softer.
“Come along, Lucion! Double the pride, double the rubber ducks, I say.” He wiggles his cane, which seems to conjure a rain of tiny, flaming, back-flipping ducks from thin air.
You throw your head back and laugh—a laugh in that impossibly theatrical, arrogantly airy voice. “Ah, brother, you read my *mind*.”
The two of you march down the corridor of the Morningstar mansion, white boots clicking against the obsidian floor, ringmaster hats tipped just so. You know every inch of this palace; you know every memory threaded into its walls. As your wings shimmer, you can’t remember what loneliness tasted like. The halls are echoing with duck calls and polka music, all as it should be.
And in that moment, you realize: you were never human. You were always the Morningstar twin, older than Earth, master of your own strange, dramatic story—and you wouldn’t trade your pride, your power, or this newfound brotherhood for all the world.
“Ready to craft a duck worthy of Kings?” Lucifer grins.
“Ready to outshine even *your* grandest masterpiece,” you reply, flourishing your cane. “Let them write whatever they like—no one transforms the Morningstars without their consent.”
And with that, the laughter and magic echo down the halls, and your old self is forgotten, replaced forever by the proudest of kings—with one twin always beside you.
This story was generated by user GenderChange with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write a POV second-person transformation story of a human reader turning into identical clone of Lucifer Morningstar (a character, voiced by "Jeremy Jordan", from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel made by Vivienne "VivziePop" Medrano), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female, her breasts vanish as her throat gains an Adam's apple to give her a more masculine voice identical to Lucifer Morningstar and her female privates (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) from her crotch/nether region invert itself and pushes out into male private parts (a penis and testicles); however, this is optional and only if the reader is female), instant clothes change, age change (becoming older than Earth itself, about 10,000 years old, despite having a youthful 30s-40s body), height progression (growing from a normal height to 6 feet tall, if the reader isn't already 6 feet tall), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being permanently and completely replaced with Lucifer Morningstar's personality and memories, despite his best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him completely forget about his past self and he then remembers, or rather realizes, that he had always been an identical twin brother of Lucifer Morningstar himself, and he remembers his name being similar to Lucifer's name but completely distinct from Lucifer's name). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. For Lucifer Morningstar's appearance (and no, he is not Satan, since Lucifer and Satan are separate characters, and Lucifer represents the sin of Pride whereas Satan represents the sin of Wrath), after the reader and his/her friend or sibling turned into his clones, Lucifer is about 6 feet (1.8 meters) tall and he has literally pure white skin. His hair is blonde, short-cut, and is slicked back with one tuft sticking out, and his blonde hair has thin light coral streaks on the thicker, paler blonde highlights. He has no facial hair on the lower half of his face (no beard, mustache, sideburns, etc), but he has eyelashes and sharp black eyebrows. He also has thin lips, and a mouth full of sharp white teeth. He has a biologically mid-to-late 20s aged body (despite being older than Earth itself and Lucifer being immortal). He has no visible ears or nose (not even a nose ridge, nose cartilage, or nostrils), giving him a less "human" appearance and instead having flat, smooth surfaces where the ears and nose would be. His eyes (which do not have irises) are light yellow with red slit pupils resembling those of a snake. He, like his daughter (Charlie Morningstar), has a large red circle pattern on each of his cheeks. His eyelids are light purple which give the appearance of eyeshadow. His forearms (including his hands) also appear to be dark grey, and it is noticeable when his sleeves are rolled up. Lucifer's white-red clothing is somewhat like a circus ringmaster; he wears a wide-brimmed white top hat with a golden snake and a red apple over golden spikes, which resemble a crown, and a red-lined and red-trimmed white popped-collared suit with eight golden buttons - his coat is worn over a light red-and-white striped waistcoat with two golden buttons and a small, accessorized black bowtie. He also wears a pair of long white poofy pants neatly tucked under a set of heeled black knee-high boots. On his left pinkie, he sports a golden ring which is presumably his wedding ring. Lucifer is usually seen carrying a red apple-topped black cane that matches his hat. Due to his angelic origins, he possesses six white wings with red feathers, which he can materialize and extend from his coat. He is shorter than his daughter, Charlie (who stands over 6 feet, around 6 and a half feet tall), and his wife, Lilith (who stands over 6-and-a-half feet tall). Despite his very thin body, Lucifer has the following powers; Flight (able to summon his six bird-like angelic wings from his back and he is capable of flying), angelic power (as a fallen angel, he possesses very strong angelic power, which holds sway over the demonic power of his contemporaries), demonic magic (as King of Hell, Lucifer has accessity to demonic magic at a much higher level than his daughter), hand-to-hand combat, super strength (as the King of Hell and one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Lucifer's strength is quite exceptional, as when he fought Adam (the Hazbin Hotel series' main antagonist/villain) he barely put any effort into the fight and easily defeating the powerful angel), shapeshifting (able to change into many forms and animals at will, for example; according to the Story of Hell, Lucifer briefly took the form of a snake (possibly his favorite animal form), and in the episode "The Show Must Go On", he took the forms of a snake, a goat, a bird, a horse, and an octopus (these animal forms are just examples of what animals he can shapeshift to), and when he shapeshifts, he still keeps some of his traits, like color scheme, red cheeks, hair, black bowtie, and white top hat), size manipulation (Lucifer changes his size a few times during the song number "Hell's Greatest Dad" in the episode "Dad Beat Dad", first when he’s sitting on his throne in front of Charlie where he is very large, and the second being when he falls out of the slot machine where he is much smaller), duplication (he can create multiple copies of himself), portal creation (he is able to conjure portals as a means of instant transportation, which other demons can use; for me example, Lucifer’s portals manifest as rings of sparkly light, being similar to the portal that took and removed Charlie and Vaggie in from Heaven in the episode "Welcome to Heaven", indicating that this ability is derived from his angelic powers), pyrokinesis (like his daughter, Charlie, he also has the power to manipulate fire at will), fire breath (in his full demon form, he can make fire come out of his mouth at will when he speaks), teleportation (he can teleport to any location by covering himself with glittery red mists), life manipulation (Lucifer is able to create and manipulate life; for example, he created Razzle and Dazzle (two small goat-like winged demons who serve the royal Morningstar family as personal bodyguards for Charlie and the rest of the family)), conjuration (he can create virtually anything he desires with a simple flick of the wrist, including but not limited to clothing, puppets, instruments, large fountains of champagne, and mountains of caviar), liquid manipulation (he is capable of carrying, manipulate, and throw yellow-colored liquid), ventriloquism, and full demon transformation (when Lucifer takes on his full demonic form, as well as displaying his wings, Lucifer displays a pair of red horns with an orb of fire between them and a thin crown resembling a snake with an apple above his hat, while his eyes also change to have red sclera with yellow pupils (unlike in his default form), he also has a black devil-like tail with spikes that ends in a triangular tip with a red heart at the center, while demonic eyes also appear on the inside his coattails; a similar eye also appears on his bowtie, in addition, his entire body gives off a light white glow). He also has musical talent (similar to his daughter Charlie, Lucifer partakes in singing), instrumental talent (he's known to be quite a skilled in various instruments, including being a very skilled fiddle player; Lucifer also can play an accordion to a minor degree), and great craftsmanship (Lucifer spends his time alone making rubber ducks with various gimmicks such as flipping backwards and spitting fire). Here's Lucifer's personality; despite his status as the ruler (king) of all of Hell, Lucifer possesses a grandiose and dramatic nature, acting very over-the-top in most situations. He switches between being silly and theatrical and awkward and melancholic. Like Charlie, Lucifer is ambitious in his beliefs. According to the "The Story of Hell" book Charlie reads in "Overture", Lucifer was an idealistic dreamer whose desire to gift humankind with free will led to the accidental creation of Hell and the subsequent banishment of it caused him to give up his dreams. After he and Lilith separated, Lucifer went into isolation and fell into depression. He coped by crafting and hoarding tons of rubber ducks, spending years in his home. This obsession also causes him to become estranged from his daughter, to the point where he barely calls her at all and thinks she does not want to talk to him. As a father, he falls short of expectations. Although he loves Charlie dearly, he seems to be preoccupied with his own problems. He rarely calls her, and when he does, it's usually because he's bored or needs something. When Charlie reached out to him for help in setting up a meeting with Heaven, he was thrilled to hear from her. However, he couldn't recall where she was or what she was doing, even though she had shared her passion project, the Hazbin Hotel, with him months ago. He also wasn't aware that Charlie was dating someone, or that she was attracted to women. This indicates that, despite his love for Charlie, he doesn't communicate with her and hasn't built up a relationship with her, though it was shown that Lucifer was much closer to Charlie in her childhood, even being the one that inspired her to pursue her dreams and passions, only becoming more distant in Charlie’s adulthood. While he is the King of Hell, Lucifer hardly rules over his subjects and leaves them to their own devices. As a result, his name (and, by extension, Charlie) carries little weight. While the denizens of Hell recognize that he is a powerful force to be reckoned with, they seem to know that little, if anything, would make him show up. Lucifer dislikes the Sinners of Hell and describes them as "violent, destructive psychopaths, hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as possible". According to him, they are all "the worst" he does not believe they can be redeemed and he cares little for what happens to them. Despite his disapproval of Sinners, Lucifer hints that he regrets his role in ever giving them free will due to what they had done with it and the consequences that came from this. Although he understands his daughter's interest in rehabilitating Sinners, Lucifer is cynical about the idea of trying to save any of them, as he attempted to redeem sinners in the past, stating that Charlie doesn't know when he tried this all before, and that his dreams were too hard to defend. Since Heaven was so unwilling to listen to him in the past, he does not want Charlie to go through the same thing. However, she still manages to convince him to arrange a meeting in Heaven for her and Vaggie, which helps Lucifer regain faith in her plans. Lucifer is fiercely protective of Charlie, as seen when he threatens her bodyguards, Razzle and Dazzle, that they had better been doing their job protecting her. Later, when Alastor began rubbing in his failings to be a proper, supportive father to Charlie and her dreams and implying he had taken Lucifer's place as Charlie's father figure, Lucifer displayed jealousy toward Alastor, whom he began to see as a rival for Charlie's affection and became insecure about his father-daughter bond with her. In "The Show Must Go On", he arrived late, but joined the fight against Adam (the series' main villain/antagonist) and the Exorcists, helping Charlie defeat them. This protective nature is shown again when at one point, Adam tries to strike both Lucifer and Charlie from behind for them to block his blow and send him flying into the dirt. Dropping the mocking attitude he had previously given to Adam during their fight, Lucifer then proceeds to angrily berate Adam for threatening him and Charlie before beating him within an inch of his life, only stopping at Charlie's insistence. Lucifer is often times careless and doesn't think about what he says, even appearing clueless at times. For example, when confronting Adam, Lucifer misworded a verbal threat as an innuendo instead and smiled proudly afterward, and when Charlie corrects him, he forgets what he said. In his first meeting with Vaggie, he calls her "Maggie" right after being told her name. Additionally, even with his monumental position, he is rather socially awkward, for example, trying to connect with Charlie by excitedly bringing up that they both like girls. However, he is not afraid to fight or get violent, as shown when he fearlessly battles Adam and beats him up violently. In the process, he is unafraid to act cocky and successfully irritate Adam by reminding him about his failure with Lilith, as well as suggesting he slept with Eve. Lucifer shows more intimidation prowess when he orders Lute to "take her 'little friends' and go home". Even so, he adds "please" politely, showing his generally refined manner. Here are Lucifer's preferences (his likes and dislikes); he likes/loves his daughter Charlie (he even supports his daughter), circus imagery, rubber ducks (including crafting rubber ducks), singing, caramel apples, pancakes, musical instruments, girls, and polka music. However he dislikes sinners demons (including Alastor the Radio Demon), having given sinners a chance, Heaven's rules (especially Heaven's hypocrisy), the Hazbin Hotel's name (including the Hazbin Hotel's bar), someone teasing about his short height, see his daughter Charlie sad, and his daughter Charlie getting in harm's way (including the thought of his daughter (Charlie) being crushed by Heaven like he was), and himself being separated from his wife Lilith. The story would be that Lucifer Morningstar was getting sick and tired of seeing online images/stories of himself being transformed into other characters/creatures in body and mind (such as himself being turned into a pregnant human woman, himself being turned into a baby human girl, himself being turned into an ant queen, himself being turned into a transformers robot, himself being turned into a car, himself being turned into a bus, himself being turned into an airplane, etc), either from different series/franchise or from the reader's real life, which Lucifer genuinely views as distasteful (since he does not want to transform against his will). So Lucifer (by some supernatural means and to teach the reader a lesson) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life to kidnap the reader from real world Earth and sent him/her to the world of Hazbin Hotel before using his supernatural magic at the reader which turned him/her into his clone in both body and mind (despite the reader's efforts of fending them off his mind/mental changes), and Lucifer tells him that this is his true self and he is waking up from his false human dream, making him truly and fully believe in Lucifer Morningstar and realizes (in happiness) that he had always been an identical twin brother of Lucifer Morningstar, sharing every part of Lucifer's appearance, outfit, powers, preferences, personality, etc, except his names (which are similar to "Lucifer", but are different to help distinguish Lucifer Morningstar from his twins). Lucifer Morningstar then asks the reader (who is an identical twin brother to Lucifer Morningstar, which is his real/true self) does he want to make more rubber ducks (which Lucifer Morningstar and his twin brother always had done), which the reader happily agrees, before they both walked off through the hallways of Lucifer Morningstar's mansion. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they are thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
Response: You barely notice the screen flicker as your finger scrolls past another fan-made image: Lucifer Morningstar as a train, as a dragon, as… something called a “pregnant human woman.” It’s all a bit surreal, but you have to admit, the creativity is impressive. Still, the animated Lord of Hell himself seems far away, trapped in a world of bright colors and adult humor, unable to escape beyond the pixels. The lights in your room flicker. Too odd! You must be imagining it—the effect of binge-watching too many episodes in a dark room, perhaps. But then the shadows warp, stretching toward you, coiling in a shimmering, sparkling mist the color of fresh blood and pure gold. Fragrance—overwhelmingly sweet, like caramel apples—fills the air. The screen on your device pulses, stretching outward as if it were made of taffy. A figure steps through reality as simply as passing through a curtain. He’s not satirical, not a joke—he’s real. Lucifer Morningstar, exactly as you remember from Hazbin Hotel but somehow more, filling your senses with a presence both alarming and magnetic. His pale white skin catches the lamplight, six spectral wings rippling with faint red fire, and his voice—oh, that voice, resonant and unbelievably familiar—vibrates in the very core of your being. “Ah, finally caught you,” he says dryly, flicking his cane to the side as he glances around your room in obvious distaste. “Now, isn’t this a *delightful* little tapestry of fan fiction and…” —he observes one of your open tabs— “train transformations. How… creative.” You jump to your feet, instinctively backing away. The room spins and warps as Lucifer steps forward, the shadows in his wake twisting like smoke. “Humans,” he sighs, and there’s a theatrical pout to his lips. “Always with the transformations. *Me* turning into a bus? I take pride in my identity, thank you very much!” He leans down, his lips curling into a sharp smile. “Let’s see how you like it… on the other side of the mirror.” A snap of his fingers. The world rushes away. # When you can see again, crimson velvet drapes hang along endless halls, and the vast stained-glass windows cast ribbons of rainbow light on ornate black marble. You are standing in the foyer of a mansion you know is not yours—a mansion you recognize instantly, though you have never set foot inside. It’s *his* world. Hazbin Hotel’s reality. Hell, itself. You open your mouth to scream, but your voice cracks, warbling between your familiar timbre and… something less familiar, deeper, steadier, the faintest musical lilt rippling in its wake. The air shimmers. You raise your hand, only for it to bloom in size—fingers lengthening, skin bleaching to paper-white, nails sharpening into perfect points. Your body stretches upward; bones shuffle with disquieting ease, vertebrae clicking as you surge upward toward an even six feet tall. Your muscles snap into lean, angular form—a stance more confident and dramatic than you ever dared wear in your human life. If you’re female, the changes are sharper still. Your chest tingles, then flattens under your hands; your waist broadens, hips narrowing, and a warmth pulses low in your gut—your insides reaching, shifting, rearranging, impossibly inverting, until, with a sudden icy clarity, you realize the organs you once knew are utterly gone, replaced with new masculine anatomy. Your throat prickles, an Adam’s apple sliding into place, and your new voice emerges—so resonant, so absolutely identical to Jeremy Jordan’s portrayal of Lucifer Morningstar that it startles you. White hands slide to your face. Your features melt and reshape: lips thinning, skull narrowing, ears shrinking away to perfect smoothness, even your *nose* vanishing into an unbroken expanse of flawless pale skin. Your eyelashes flare, painted purple lids arching over eyes that darken to a golden yellow, slit like a viper’s, set off by two stark red circles on your cheeks. Blond hair bursts from your scalp, streaked with faint coral, snapping back into a jaunty slick—and atop it appears a white top hat, trimmed with gold and crowned by an apple. Your clothes—your ordinary clothes—crumble into flecks of sparkling dust, swirling around you and rearranging themselves with a tactile flourish into fabric: white and red, decadent and sharply tailored. A ring settles on your pinky. A cane appears at your fingertips, apple gleaming atop black. You shudder. A tickle erupts between your shoulders—wings, six of them, wrenching outward in pure white, catching the light and shimmering, tips edged in red. Memories flood you. Centuries—no, *eons*—of them: celestial choirs, the halls of Heaven, a bitter fall, pride burned into your every fiber. You struggle, clawing for your old self, your old name, history, passions, and fears—but they are swept away, torn loose and replaced with the tide of expansive arrogance, awkward humor, crushing melancholia, extravagant theatricality, and the weight of being King of Hell. It all pours in, overwhelming, a cascade impossible to resist. You try to say “No,” but the words catch and twist: “A pleasant little surprise,” you remark to the velvet curtains, finding the words spring to your tongue with practiced grandeur. “But perhaps I should call for—” You stop, confused a moment, as the awareness sharpens: *you are not Lucifer Morningstar*. You are his *identical twin*, always have been, forever will be. Your new mind races, forming itself in the image of the Morningstar twins. The desire to make rubber ducks, to craft, to sing, to protect a daughter you have always cherished—all of it hums through your rewritten spirit. A voice, nearly identical to yours, echoes from down the grand staircase. There stands Lucifer Morningstar himself, one brow arched, a wry smile curling over his lips. “There you are, brother!” he calls, sweeping in a dramatic bow. “Had a nice dream? Pretending to be *one of them*? Ah, hardly befitting for one of *our* blood.” You look at him—at yourself—and the realization is sweeter than you ever imagined. You have always been here. You were never that fragile human dreamer. The name that forms in your mind is both strange and fitting—*Lucion*, or perhaps *Lucivan*—but in your heart, it is absolutely right. Lucifer sweeps beside you, looping an arm through yours. His eyes are sparkling with mischief—and a hint of something softer. “Come along, Lucion! Double the pride, double the rubber ducks, I say.” He wiggles his cane, which seems to conjure a rain of tiny, flaming, back-flipping ducks from thin air. You throw your head back and laugh—a laugh in that impossibly theatrical, arrogantly airy voice. “Ah, brother, you read my *mind*.” The two of you march down the corridor of the Morningstar mansion, white boots clicking against the obsidian floor, ringmaster hats tipped just so. You know every inch of this palace; you know every memory threaded into its walls. As your wings shimmer, you can’t remember what loneliness tasted like. The halls are echoing with duck calls and polka music, all as it should be. And in that moment, you realize: you were never human. You were always the Morningstar twin, older than Earth, master of your own strange, dramatic story—and you wouldn’t trade your pride, your power, or this newfound brotherhood for all the world. “Ready to craft a duck worthy of Kings?” Lucifer grins. “Ready to outshine even *your* grandest masterpiece,” you reply, flourishing your cane. “Let them write whatever they like—no one transforms the Morningstars without their consent.” And with that, the laughter and magic echo down the halls, and your old self is forgotten, replaced forever by the proudest of kings—with one twin always beside you.
Post your own comment or use AI: