The Harbinger’s Wailing Grin…

What a cute name.

Jay’s eyes were dragged to Ezekiel’s old sword. It gripped his attention, like it was forcing him to look its way. The engraved runes running along the sword’s near-black shaft remained unlit, but Jay couldn’t forget their sickly green glow from Ezekiel’s fights.

It looked longer than Akira’s samurai sword and had a larger cross guard. The blade was perfectly straight until the end, where it curved slightly.

Jay didn’t know much about swords and, since he wasn’t keeping it anyway, he pulled his attention onto his other spoils.

Beside the sword rested Davad’s quiver, bow, reserve dagger and a single arrow. A few metres away, the shield sat on its own.

“Where’s everything else.” Jay said, voicing his thoughts and hoping the coliseum would give him an answer.

When a fighter dies, all their possessions belong to the coliseum. Due to the terms of this fight, some items have been exempted from the usual process. Your contribution point allowance has been docked accordingly, to maintain a fair reward.

That’s why I only got 1k then.

“Isn’t that a bit unfair? We agreed to fight for everything?”

All a fighter’s belongings belong to the Second Chance Coliseum upon death

You only own the items in front of you because the Second Chance Coliseum permits it.

They rightfully belong to the Second Chance Coliseum.

Jay didn’t inquire further, sensing the annoyance behind the golden screens. He didn’t entirely stop though.

“When you said, ‘especially if you want to find him.’ after my debut. Did you mean my brother?”

Silence.

That’s all I suppose.

Jay went back to the items, reaching over to the quiver first. It was about a foot and a half long and crafted from a tough brown leather. Etched grooves swirled across the quiver, seeming to ripple as Jay turned it in his hands. A dark metal circlet covered the lip of the opening. It pressed against Jay’s fingertips with an unnatural coldness, like iron forgotten beneath a winter sky. Jay could almost feel the warmth getting sapped from his fingers and sealed inside.

During the fight, Jay had glossed over the quiver. He needed to focus more on the knife Davad was pulling out of it. Looking at it now, its interior seemed to defy explanation. No light, no leather or lining, just a shadowy void.

He tipped it upside down, half-hoping a guide would fall out or a golden screen would pop up and explain it to him. It was no use. It seemed like the coliseum only answered fight related questions.

Nothing fell out after Jay turned over the quiver. He guessed there probably wasn’t anything in there, otherwise the coliseum would’ve taken it out and placed it next to the bow and arrow.

Only one way to find out.

Jay resisted the intrusive urge to try and stick his head inside the quiver. Instead, he opted to test it out with the arrow first.

He grabbed the wooden shaft and poked inside the quiver with the arrow tip. The arrow disappeared into the shadows, but he couldn’t feel anything inside with it. He twisted the arrow’s angle, inserting it almost sideways, and placed his other hand near where he thought it would poke against the quiver’s inside.

The arrow entered the shadows, but Jay couldn’t feel it from the outside. It didn’t pierce the leather, or even push against it. It kept sinking in, far beyond the quiver’s walls.

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Jay spun the arrow around the quiver, trying to touch the sides. He didn’t feel a thing

The fuck?

It’s bigger on the inside?

Jay pulled the arrow out and inspected it. There weren’t any new cuts on the shaft, or abrasions on the tip. The arrow seemed undamaged. Exactly as it was before Jay put it inside the shadow quiver.

He placed the intact arrow on the floor and stared into the void for a few seconds.

Fuck it.

Jay gingerly raised his hand.

Why not.

His hand inched closer to the shadows.

He stopped. Millimetres from the well of blackness.

Four fingers clenched into a fist, leaving only the smallest outstretched.

Jay’s pinky finger crept forward.

He dipped it into the darkness.

Biting cold snapped at Jay's finger. He yanked it from the event horizon, immediately dropping the quiver and bringing his hand up to his face.

Jay didn’t see anything wrong with his finger. It quickly returned to room temperature and he hadn’t felt anything other than the startling cold inside the quiver.

Seems fine. It probably just surprised me.

Releasing a deep breath, Jay picked up the quiver again and edged his finger closer.

He went up to his nail, before sliding his whole finger in. Other than the cold, which wasn’t even that cold now that Jay was expecting it, he felt nothing. He wiggled his finger. Still nothing.

Fuck it.

Jay stuck his whole hand in.

The moment Jay’s hand was fully submerged, he knew the quiver was empty.

He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew.

Confident the quiver was safe-ish, Jay stuck his arm in further.

Once his elbow passed the shadowy wall, Jay twisted his arm and felt around for the edge.

The fuck? It’s not there?

Jay’s arm was supposed to be bent. It was supposed to not only be pressing against the quiver’s inside, but over a foot past it.

But all he felt was the strange cold air, like he’d just opened a freezer door and stuck his arm inside.

Jay remembered Akira’s warning about trying not to make sense of things. He remembered chiding himself multiple times for not heeding it.

Even still, he couldn’t help himself as he pulled his arm out of the quiver.

“How the hell is it doing this?”

Jay remembered the foyer of Pavan Hall, and his conversation with Akira about the essence of space. He’d mentioned backpacks that worked similarly, being bigger on the inside. Perhaps the quiver was the same?

But another thing kept scratching at Jay’s mind.

How did Davad pull the dagger out so easily?

The archer hadn’t fumbled at all when reaching for his reserve weapon, effortlessly finding it inside the seemingly giant quiver

Jay turned back to the arrow. He brought the quiver up to his ear, held the arrow above it, and dropped it in.

Silence

Even the whoosh of air vanished from Jay’s ears as soon as the arrow entered the quiver.

He reached after it, plunging his right hand into the quiver.

There!

Jay clenched his fist, but he felt the slender, polished wood against his palm before his fingers fully folded. He smiled as he pulled the arrow out, pleased to have discovered the quiver’s true nature.

It’s probably something like the essence of finding. Or storage, if that’s even a thing.

Jay could’ve waited for an explanation from Akira. One he’d casually listen to from the comfort of the Celestial Sword’s tavern with a beer in hand. But Jay was glad he’d discovered at least something himself.

The rest of his spoils tempted Jay, but he was conscious of time. His friends were probably waiting for him outside, and he couldn’t spend all day in here poring over his new belongings.

Jay slotted the sword, bow, arrow, and dagger inside the shadowy quiver. It didn’t feel much heavier even with all three weapons and an arrow inside it. He put the quiver down and stepped up to the shield, giving it his full attention.

Up close, the shield almost looked like a navy-blue manhole cover. Jay couldn’t read any of the engravings decorating it at the auction, nor did he focus on them during the fight, but now Jay had the time to properly look over his new shield.

The grooves covering the shield looked nothing like the ones wrapped around the quiver. Sharp, straight lines emanated from the dull, cloudy crystal in the middle. Only occasionally broken up by bridging radial lines between them. The whole array reminded Jay of a circuit board, and he could almost imagine electricity coursing through the inner crystal, rushing through the channels, and empowering the shield.

During the fight, Jay had felt a connection to the shield. Would he feel the same thing again now?

You wanted to protect your owner, can’t blame you for that. Will you do the same for me?

Jay placed both hands on the rim of the shield, unsure what to expect.

His hands clasped the cool blue iron like they were magnetically drawn there. The instant spark from the fight wasn’t there, but Jay felt a connection. He felt a subtle but noticeable shift within the shield, as if it began to rouse for a split second before slumbering back to sleep.

The magnetism vanished, and although the shield looked and felt no different, Jay sensed something.

Regardless of how big the inside was, the quiver’s entrance was only slightly larger than Jay’s arm. No matter how hard he pushed, the shield couldn’t quite squeeze in. After a minute of trying, Jay gave up and decided to simply carry the shield. The backside didn’t have a strap, or anything to mount to his arm, so he held it under his arm. It was surprisingly light for a pure metal shield.

Laden with his spoils, Jay walked out of the post-fight room with his head held a little higher than the last two times.