Paul Jacobs was one of Jack McLaughlin's only close friends. Known for his unwavering belief in everything fantasy, Paul was particularly obsessed with the legend of the Golden Quill. He meticulously followed any news that might hint at the Quill's whereabouts. Little did he know that one of his friends had somehow gotten his hands on it.

Paul stood in front of Jack's building, his eyes wide with disbelief. The once sturdy structure was now reduced to rubble. His thoughts raced, questions swirled in his mind. Was Jack alright? Was he even alive?

"Jack McLaughlin, are you alright?" Paul texted, his hands trembling.

The seconds felt like hours as he awaited a response. His phone buzzed, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Jack was alive, otherwise he wouldn't be texting.

"Hey, who are you?" A voice interrupted his thoughts, sharp and demanding.

"Huh?" Paul scanned the area, searching for the source of the voice.

"I asked who you are," the voice repeated, this time with a hand gripping Paul's shoulder.

Sweat dripped down Paul's forehead, his hair stood on end, and his body shook subtly. His breath was heavy, and fear gripped him. Slowly, he turned his head.

"I'm just here to visit a friend," Paul stammered, swallowing hard as he faced a tall figure. The person was about six feet tall with long hair, and wore a gas mask.

The figure tightened their grip on Paul's shoulder, their tone menacing and accented. "Oh, same. So, who's the friend?"

Paul's heart pounded loudly in his chest. "I don't know if he knows Jack, but a part of me wants to say nothing," he thought.

The figure suddenly released Paul's shoulder and put their hands up. "Looks like we have company," they said.

Paul turned back to see several people in military gear with armor marked by a crossed-out quill insignia, emerging from the rubble of Jack's building.

"Hands in the air!" one of them shouted, presumably the leader, his weapon aimed at Paul.

Paul's phone buzzed again. "Paul Jacobs, whatever you do, GET AWAY FROM THERE NOW!" read a text from Jack, catching everyone's attention.

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The figure behind Paul quickly snatched the phone from his hand. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" they sneered.

Gathering his courage, Paul turned his head. "Please give me back my phone," he pleaded.

"Sorry, can't do," the figure replied, scrolling through Paul's phone. "It seems your friend is my friend too."

As the figure continued to peruse the phone, a gunshot rang out, followed by several more. Paul's eyes widened in horror. He turned to see the military personnel's smoking guns, then back at the figure, who now lay on the ground.

After what felt like an eternity, but was only a few seconds, Paul looked back at the military leader. "I told you, hands in the air," the leader said, turning to his team. "Retrieve the phone and the owner. We must find out where it is."

Paul's eyes darted back to the figure on the ground. "Is... is he dead?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"No, not yet," came a rasping breath from the supposed corpse. "You really thought a bunch of bullets could damage this armor made by the master?"

"Fire!" the military leader commanded.

The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder as bullets flew from the soldiers' guns.

When the shooting ceased, the figure stood up, unscathed. "How... how are you alive?" Paul asked, his voice shaking.

"Thank my boss for that, but now, I have to deal with company," the figure replied, advancing towards the soldiers.

Paul's eyes caught sight of his phone, now lying on the ground. Seizing the moment, he dashed for it. "What did he say to Jack? What did he do to my phone?" he wondered.

Checking the replies, Paul sighed in relief. "He only asked questions."

"Jack, it's me," Paul began to text when the sky suddenly blazed brighter than the sun. He looked up, seeing words formed in the sky: "Your desires are your wishes, which have now... been granted."

"What the hell is happening today?" Paul stared in awe, dropping his phone, forgetting about his message to Jack.

The fighting in front of Paul paused as everyone noticed the words in the sky. "Finally, a wish, one massive at that!" they all said in unison.

Suddenly, the world around Paul became a blur. Colors clashed, the scent of gunpowder vanished, and a vortex appeared in front of him. "What the helllllll---" he screamed as he was sucked into the vortex.

"Paul?" a familiar voice called out. Looking up, Paul saw Jack and a few other people.

"Jack!" Paul exclaimed, rushing to embrace his friend. "Are you okay? I saw your building and... and..."

"I know, I know," Jack said, gently pushing Paul back. "Alright, since you all are probably confused," Jack said, his expression becoming stern.

"All?" Paul thought, turning around to see other familiar faces. Friends he had seen recently and others he hadn't seen in over a decade.

"Sarah? Ben? David? Ali?" Paul called out, scanning the group. He turned back to Jack, "Jack, what the bloody hell is happening? Why is everyone here, even those we haven't seen in 10 years?"

"I was scared... I was scared something had already happened to you all," Jack said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Paul questioned, placing his hands on Jack's shoulders. "If anything, I was worried about you! Look at your bloody house, for Christ's sake! It's burned down!"

Wiping his eyes, Jack regained his composure. "Paul, you were right."

"Right about what?" Paul asked, interrupting.

"You were right. I just didn't want to believe it," Jack continued.

"Jack McLaughlin, tell me the bloody truth. What was I right about?" Paul pressed.

"Paul, you were the one person I always denied, saying you were childish about the existence of a fictional object. But today... today proved me wrong," Jack admitted.

"Wait... don't tell me," Paul said, wide-eyed.

"Yes, Paul, your suspicions are spot on. The fictional Quill was always real," Jack confirmed.

"Wow, that was not what I was expecting," Paul said, his heart racing.