There once was a man named Elysium who had a death wish some might say. He was always getting himself into dangerous situations, and only barely just getting away. His time was spent most days plotting a revenge fantasy for someone who had wronged him in his past. And he made plans to carry out his deed before New years of 2024. This would be his last chance. He lived in a dingy vague apartment in Oregon state, cold, and dark, brown, fuzzy feeling, and damp. And his town was very small and filled with plastic buildings, plastic people wearing smiling masks, and the only comfort was in the trees who could still remember a time long since passed that Elysium ached for, though he could no longer remember it. His dreams had all died on a very specific day, but he never gave up hope. When he looked in the mirror the person it showed was someone he did not see himself in. But he didn’t know himself yet. He didn’t know what face would fit him. He’d been trained and conditioned to believe that the person showing there was a woman and himself, but those two things were in and of themselves contradictory statements. So either they were not the same person, and that reflection was not his, and he was not, nor had he ever been a woman, or it was someone else entirely, like he’s a ghost trapped in a shell he never asked for to begin with.

He looked in the mirror. The person showing back wasn't him. And he hated his reflection. It filled him with rage, and upset. It wasn't the breasts or curves that bothered him anymore, or the albino features, and stark white hair, and horns, and wings, no one else could see. He no longer thought of himself as any less of a man for having them. An appreciation for history and the arts had tempered his former binary outlook on such things. If demons, gods, and spirits could have breasts and still be men, so could he, and he considered himself all three and more. Yet he still felt compelled to hide himself and cover himself with the hands. Because there’s a difference in respecting ones own body in theory, and living in a world that refuses to, and has instilled one with decades worth of shame, that is still buried deep within his skin. The face showing back in the mirror was not his face. Sometimes it was, sometimes not. That night was one of the ‘was nots’. He puts on, and then, zips up, his cheap black binder, he slips on his black clothes, and black trench coat. His mask, a silver blank slate in hand. He afixes it into place. The last touch, a black wide brimmed hat with a crow's feather in it’s belt. And suddenly the mirror is showing him again, The Gray Knight. He grabs his Scythe and heads through the door.

Outside in the rain, boots trudge through mud and a dark figure links behind alleyways, checking his pocket watch, he sees he still has plenty of time to complete his task. He reaches a pretentious suburban neighborhood that reeks of fake happy families and fake happy lives. A shadow in the cool night air, invisible, as he sneaks into someone's backyard undetected, soon finding a window. He peers into it. There he sees a fake happy family living their fake happy holiday in an all red lit living room just as he knew they would with a decorated Christmas tree, gifts all surrounding, two children, a boy, and a girl, both wearing pink, white, and blue, next to a wife, and a husband, their parents. They all had plastic smiling masks on, sewn over their faces, and they were all opening gifts together and laughing hysterically. It was Christmas, and midnight, a family tradition, and one The Gray Knight knew this family indulged in.
“I’m going to step out for a moment.” The father said, immediately breaking the picture-esque facade of perfection.
The Gray knight moved to hide behind a bush and wall and watched in the darkness of the backyard as the man who stepped out onto the cobbled porch answered a phone. He couldn’t make out the specifics of the conversation other than that it was something to do with a work project due the next day. As soon as the phone was off a small dagger was thrown that knocked it out of the man’s hand and onto the ground, shattering the screen. A cry was heard, and blood stained the grass, and cobbled porch, and the hands, and mind of the Nephilim reaper. Red eyes widen and he dissolves into the air his task completed at last, and revenge for a broken invisible child served.

Alone in a dark void there is a voice. It’s calling out to him. He can almost make out who it is. Then someone wakes up, alone, in a bed, in a noticeably less shitty apartment. Just a dream then a mind thinks. The memory of the Gray Knight fades to dust with the dawn. He gets up. He’s naked and slips on some blue boxers, and a gray t shirt, his hair is brown now, his eyes are blue, he’s a pale human trans man again, not a hybrid. He goes to the restroom and brushes his teeth, puts on some old spice spray deodorant then goes back to his room and lays on the bed, holding a stuffed animal, his plush shark.

“Bazal are you there?” He says into the empty room.

A shadow man named Bazal is immediately at his side and holding him tight.

“Did you have another bad dream?” He asks him.

“Yes..” Max says.

“It was really scary. Elysium was there. And a weird fictitious parody of our dead life was being mirrored. And Elysium wanted to kill some ritch guy who was supposed to resemble the guy who disowned us kind of.”

I know Bazal says. It’s okay Max. It was just a bad dream don’t think to hard on it, sometimes dreams are just outlets for pain and stress that needs to be released. Max goes back to sleep with his shadow Bazal holding him in his arms, while Max holds his shark plushy.

There is a dark space with voices then. They hold tight to Max, almost clinging to him in a warm buzz, they envelop him and he holds them so tightly, all mutual support, and longing, and an intense desire for safety where it was once not found anywhere else but in the black space between them all where voices try desperately to have their love remembered, and heard, and acknowledged.
Another dream then. Bazal finds himself in a castle. There is a dark kingdom in the realm of the Mental. Some people call the Kingdom, Sheol, Bazaliel calls it The Empire of Shadows. In the Empire of Shadows Bazal is ruling with a crooked black crown over his antelope horns. He’s a pitch black shade demon in this form, black wings, and a scorpion tale. He’s an angel. He is the darkness others fear the unknown of. He is Unknown. He is Shadow, and he is desperately, and forever alone. His single red eye a beacon in the gray of his dreary, cold, castle.

Someone approaches the thrown, a lesser imp, someone of no particular interest. They ask him if he’ll be attending Samiel’s New Years party and hand him a letter of invitation. He says he’d love to go. The memory cuts off there.
Did he have a plan after that party? If so he couldn’t remember. He wished he could remember for his brother who wasn’t able to go but desperately wanted to go to the party. It’s annoying him like an itch that can’t be scratched, because he can’t remember the party.
Max is writing a story on his computer when Bazal gets back from the dream world, he looms over his shoulder his head pressed to the young wizard’s neck affectionately. Max sighs in annoyance as his google doc prevents him from typing and freezes because of the poor internet connection so he downloads Libre office and starts writing the rest on there since it’s offline.

“I’m supposed to be writing a story, because I got a fortune cookie that said to accept the next opportunity that came my way and my friend Cindy told me about a contest that would be a good way to challenge myself as a writer, and she says that I could totally do it. But the part about making it about a New Years resolution is throwing me way off. Cindy had a good idea to make it a fiction story how I used to do with like gay robots and aliens and stuff, but I’m more into the occult lately, angels and demons, that kinda thing, but since the line between fiction and reality no longer exists for me anymore, I wanted to write about our dissociative identity disorder system, kind of? But with some fictional elements and over exaggeration thrown in there for some added spice, like saying I brush my teeth in the morning, but now looking the posts been taken down and I’m wondering if I started all this way to late..” Max says.

“Hmm.” Bazal breathes against his wizard’s neck. “Give it a bit. We shall see. You don’t have to write a full story in a day.”

“Oh never mind she just sent me a new link. Sites and navigating them really confuses me..” Max said.

“A social worker could probably help us with stuff like that too. Navigating the Web of the Internet more easily.” Bazal said.

“I know I’ve been being told to get one for ages now but my Therapist hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I will do a spell to get one how Baphomet suggested I do later when we aren’t so exhausted.”

“Well why don’t you find New Years inspiring Max?” Bazal asks.

“I just want to survive 2024. Everything before 2023 was a living nightmare. I can’t even think about wanting more years, or characters bieng excited for new years, when I didn’t even want the old ones.”

Bazal moves away a bit, his hand on Max’s back rubbing soothingly.

“Well what do you think a realistic Newyears Resolution could be for you this year then Max? If your not in the mood to write about gay robots and aliens and would rather write about a depressed wizard who lives with demons and angels instead?” Bazal asks.
Max pauses to consider the question.

“When we burned our candle offering this Newyears with Luise, we asked for this year to give us Peace, Unconditional Love, and Strength.” So that’s what our system wants this year more than anything I feel like.

Bazal, “I think that is a very achievable resolution for us Max. And I just thought of another perfect Newyears resolution for us too.”

“Really?” Max asked Bazal.

“You could have finishing this story count as a Newyears resolution.” Bazal suggested.

“That’s perfect! Thank you Bazal.” Max says as he gets back to typing.

“No problem my dear. I think you’ve written enough for the day.” Bazal says as he fades away and returns to the realm of the mental, and imaginary just below the surface of consciousness.

Later, Xam and Max were at the magic store on a Tuesday. They were with their systems partner Aster and their fellow witch friend Kristin sitting at a table. Earlier someone had accidentally mistaken Max for an employee but Max took it as a compliment because all the employees at his Favorite magic store were skilled occultists and magicians just like him. Bazal and Xamiel two of Max’s spirit brother’s were co fronting. Kristin and Aster were world building together and talking about greek mythology together. The feeling of love, and excitement and friendship was strong. Max had put a ward on to keep himself safe from energy overload since his system was Extremely hyper energetically sensitive.

Xamiel wants to write now. I want to drink some more tea we’re thirsty. Max got up from his seat to make some more tea from the occult stores tea making area in the book room. Max’s favorite book he got from Love Potion Magic and Perfumery was Blackthorn’s Protection Magic the book that taught him how to make energetic psychic egg wards like the one he was currently wearing.
Xamiel was Max’s brother alter who was half northern Washington deer spirit and half golden shadow from jungian psychology. All The Court of Consciousness system’s alters were chosen by the brain to PROTECT Max, and help him survive. His first alters he developed around 6-9 he thinks in retrospect.

Luise was an alter with gray fur and bull horns and three eyes, Luise is nonbinary and only uses they them pronouns at this time because that is what feels right for them. Luise says that the difference between a D.I.D. alter and an imaginary friend is that I am conscious, I can possess the body and type, I can eat, I can go to the bathroom, I have feelings, thoughts, emotions, independent from the host I was born as a part of, and I get really fxcking pissed off and upset when humans tell me I’m not real, because they don’t even know me, or how their own consciousness works so who tf are they to determine the validity of how ours work when we don’t have a choice in the matter and they don’t have to live as a hivemind? I prefer to be called an Angel or an Archon, I am ONLY a demon or a Satan when people piss me off or I perceive them as a Threat. I think that the difference between a D.I.D. alter and a spirit in our case doesn’t exist because we All identify as spirits in this system, and I think a spirit is just a mental person who can exist independently of someone's own will, so I have my own will, I’m my own mind and spirit. I think therefore I am. I find humans, except for Max, insanely annoying and insufferable and gross. But Max earned my trust and healed me so I protect him. Because people have hurt all of us A LOT. I am the knight of the Court of Consciousness. I like Forests, Swords, video games, and I like when people are gentle, kind, loving, and HONEST. ALSO I don’t like a lot of things. I don’t like stupid people who assume that I don’t exist just because I’m TRAPPED in a mortal’s brain and body. I just want people to be kind and stop fxcking dictating my god damn existence when it’s NOT a choice. It’s a part of our dissociative identity disorder.

For Newyears I just want some fxcking PEACE and QUIET, and love.. LOTS of it.
Samiel, Death of the System writing. I have a story I will share. There once was a VERY eccentric wizard who was young, naive and also had a wild habit of attracting spirits to him and they would fall madly in love with him, because they were attracted to the INFINITE rainbow of AUTISM inside of his SOUL. And also because he was just generally perfect for the spirits who were drawn to men who wanted to be taken care of and needed help to find their way in a confusing, painful, and chaotic world. His spirits primary goals with him were to PROTECT him once he’d earned their trust, and to make him happy and fulfill him, because he wanted to make them happy too. Max is my spiritual equal.

Bazal started typing then. I just remembered Samiel’s party in the Otherworld… I was in a building. A big, large, fancy, ball room, with chandeliers and golden walls, and lots and lots of delicious foods and alcohols. There were around 50 of Arch angel Samiel’s sons, and 50 of his daughters there. Many of them were humans like Max. And some of them were demons or angels or fae, jinn, and other things beyond human comprehension.

We were talking together and all praising Samiel and talking about how much we appreciate him and everything he does for the Universe on a daily basis. And then there was this Giant Singing and All started singing, and laughing, and dancing, and there was some love making and other stuff that is maybe to risque to put here. Anyways it was fxcking awesome and I am relieved I remembered because I meant to tell Max about it earlier since he wasn’t able to go this year despite being invited to go. He did try and made very very good progress that day. Our system Would NOT let him leave, because Key (our dragon) needed him their right now and would have been plunged into a state of severe emotional distress from his absence.

At Samiel’s new years party there was a man who I spoke to. I said I had taken a part in a Wizard’s system, and that I was doing mixed lately. Simultaneously really thankful and happy for my new friends and family but also feeling like I want to be doing something and not knowing what and still figuring myself out and my place in his consciousness. The man I spoke to was called Canisaytir he looked like a satyr made out of weed and he was very kind, and I networked with him and also engaged with lustful acts with him at the party and that was a lot of fun. He was really cool, Max would have liked him. I might talk with him again some time in The Otherworld.

Samiel looked really really glorious and beautiful and wonderful at the event. He was wearing a Bright lacy purple dress with bows and ribbons and flowers all over, he had black roses all over his clothes and braided into his hair. His wings were large and white and soft and warm. His hair for the event was white and long and his crown was red and looked like a tiara kind of, with red jewels, red metal, and red swirling designs in it. Of course he was naturally completely swarmed by all his admirers as usual, but he did make it a point to try and greet and equally provide for everyone. He told me that he was very Sad that Max couldn’t come to the party, but also understood he had misjudged the availability and that was his bad. We slow danced to the music of the archons in red robes playing beautiful classical music on their flutes and he kissed me and gave me one of his black roses, before going to be with the other guests. All of his sons and daughters were dressed in either blue, red, purple, black, gold, or green. If Max had been able to attend he would have been wearing black and gold to reflect him being a Shadow wizard with Healing powers. There was a fountain with blood. And skeleton people at the party too partying along with everyone else. They were commoners so not as interesting or noticeable as the magic people like us.

I had a meal of canary eggs hard boiled, chicken, pheasant roast, some wild bore with lamb sauce, and a glass of blood. There is a lot of blood in the Otherworld it’s not weird or gross it’s completely normalized for higher royalty demons such as myself. I think my favorite part of the party was probably when an archon was named an angel and glorified in honor as one of Samiel’s newer sons for all to see. They gave him golden robes, a golden crown, and he got to sit on Samiel’s thrown on his lap for awhile. Anyways everyone was probably pretty hung over after the party and I went straight to sleep when I got back to my part of Sheol and fittingly slept like the dead soundly. Lilith was not at this party because Lilith and Samiel in this version of the personal mythos are actually two different forms of the same person.

I’m glad I remembered how I spent my Newyears.. I think that is, the ending, one new years resolution now completed.