It's cold. Early Fall. A young man walks home from school as the chilled air nips at his nose. He clings to his old grey jacket, which he always wears. His skin is fair, almost pale, his backpack is heavy, full of books on the dark arts and writing. He approaches his house with a sigh. He sneakily opens the front door, his brown eyes adjusting as he sneaks into the unlit foyer, quietly avoiding attention.

He hears footsteps, and quickly dashes to his room. As soon as he's there, he empties his backpack. He hears a voice from his pocket, "is it time?" The voice is eager and malicious.

"Not yet my friend," the young man, seventeen at most, explains with a smile, taking a inky black mask from his pocket that one could wear to a masquerade, "today is not our time."

"Oh but it'd be so fun!" The mask replies, "we could be God!"

"I don't want to be God," the young man sighs, "I just want to be free."

"Why not both?"

"Because I'm the religious type OK?"

"Suit yourself. You gonna log in?"

"Ah yes, the magic plane. I'm shocked it replaced the internet so fast. I mean, magic was discovered, what, five year ago?"

"Yeah. That's why you have me."

"Yeah."

"I don't get it kid. You're actually fairly powerful with the arcane arts. Why not just take the Arcane Web? With me, we can do it."

"No. The Arcane Web isn't like the internet. It's a real place. Like, it actually exists. Computers  are more like portals now. I can't do that. Besides, now's not a good time. We're still on trial for... the incident."

"Right. We best log on."

The young man puts his hand to a scanner in front of his computer.

"Password user 1487-907?" A computerized voice asks.

"Pen is power," the mask and man reply in sync.

"Welcome to the Arcane Web," the computer replies witty apathy, "Jonathan River. Aka, King of Pens."

A young woman of about twenty enters the prison area of the Arcane Web. She has short brown hair and green eyes. Her skin is fairly tan and she holds in her left hand a staff. She wears a fancy black suit with a red tie.

"Hello there," a prison guard greets, "what are you doing here mayor? Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your website? I mean, hasn't there been a series of murders there?"

"My writing website is my business," the woman replies, "speaking of which, I am here to speak to my client. Prisoner A113."

"Oh," the guard replies, "he just logged on. Come with me."

The guard leads the mayor through the prison. Past dozens of rouge mages, hackers, murders, and many other heinous criminals, before coming to a cell on the fifteenth floor.

The man in the cell wears an enchanted grey jacket, and appears to be practicing some sort of dark magic.

"Hey!" The guard slams his police baton on the bars of the enchanted cell, "no magic!"

"Oh relax," the prisoner gets up, "I'm just conjuring up some dinner. You guys like fried chicken?"

"Just keep it on the down-low," the guard sighs.

"Alright," the prisoner shrugs, "so, how you been mayor?"

"We need to talk about the charges against you King of Pens," the mayor sighs, "what you're being charged with-"

"Is bogus," the King of Pens rises to his feet munching on a chicken leg, "listen Master of Law, we both know I'm innocent. I mean, you me both chose weird names."

"This would be so much easier if you were, like, seventeen," Master of Law sighs, "you'd be charged as a minor."

"It's not my fault I'm twenty three," King of Pens lies, "besides, the real killer wore a mask."

"Not unlike yours."

"I know it looks bad, but this guy used pyromancy. Fire magic. I use ink magic. Dark magic. You know that."

"Look, if there's something you're not telling me King, now's the time. The trial is today in five hours. If I don't get evidence soon-"

"I didn't kill him! I would never kill anyone!"

King's left eye twitches as he says the second part, an innocuous tell he's lieing that Law misses.

"Fine," Law sighs, "but we have no proof. What are we gonna do?"

"You're the lawyer!" King exclaims, "think of something!"

"We're dealing with a murder case, and considering that story you wrote-"

"You leave my books out of this," King warns, "my stories are mine, and nobody is taking them from me."

"Chill out!" Law exclaims, "like, seriously. Hey, do you have that mask?"

"Always," King replies, "why?"

"Why do have that?" Law asks, "I mean, how do you have that? What's in it? A demon? A human soul? What's in it?"

"A mistake," King sighs, "one I refuse to correct. OK. There is one thing, but... you're not gonna like it."

"Why not?"

"Because... I don't know it. The one in the mask does, but he won't talk. Not unless someone puts on the mask, and we can't have that."

"So what about the trial?"

"I may have to put on the mask."

"But the last time-"

"I remember that incident. Please don't talk about that. That was mistake. I just got the mask. I didn't know he would do... THAT."

"Man, I miss her."

"Me too, but... I couldn't be charged for it since we were between websites."

"That's true. It is the law. I'll see you at the trial King."

"See ya Law."

Law exits the jail, sighing. She holds a photo of five people posing in front of a massive tower. There's herself, King, a cop, a man in a suit, and a woman with angelic wings.

Law sighs, putting the photo back. They sorta fell apart after the incident with the mask. If only it didn't end like that...

Law tries not to think about it and opens the case file, looking over the evidence one last time. After all...

If King is found guilty, he'll be executed, and dieing in the Arcane Web...

Is actually fatal...