606. The Meaning of the Marks

606. The Meaning of the Marks

The spears which fought for her no longer had a golden apple. They impaled themselves into the chest of the Seventh Apostle before they tore free and blocked the swings of the other two Apostles.

< The Icon of Judgement’s Wings Continue to Search For Something in Its Earthly Paradise >

“... me?” Frost wondered out loud. “Either me, or most likely the Princess. But could it have changed after I ate the slices? She’s the ‘Forbidden Fruit’? I thought she was the one who ate it. Isn’t that why she’s the One Marked by Judgement?”

< Marked can have many meanings >

< Did you not possess such a Mark when you arrived in this world? >

“What... are you trying to imply? That I’m the Princess? Her reincarnation!?”

Frost denied this as a possibility. But the fact remained that she had multiple pasts, so perhaps it was possible after all. The spears fought for her as she drowned in shock, eventually convincing herself that this was impossible.

“Don’t you dare! First I was Sinder –! No... I came from Earth first. I don’t want to know about a third life I never knew now of all times!”

And thankfully, before her emotions could spiral further out of control, the Voice assured her:

< You are certainly not the Princess of Puritas >

“Then what about our appearance!? WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK LIKE HER!?”

The spears trembled in response to her rising emotions. The Apostles were repelled effortlessly thanks to them, breaking their indomitable posture as she forced herself to keep her emotions in check.

De Jure was stabbed into the ground like a spear as she strangled it with trembling fingers.

Her expression darkened, and her eyes sank as she filled out the sound of reverberating clashes.

“All I want is an answer. I want someone to tell me the truth. Is it worth all the trouble to keep me in the dark? Tell me, Voice, will finding out these things turn me against people I’ve come to trust?”

< I don’t believe it will >

“Then why won’t anyone tell me anything? Keeping things a secret until its too late is exactly what will turn me against them!”

The Arbiter was the one bestowed Frost the Mark of Judgement when she first came into this world.

The reason was to grant her an audience with the Arbiter, much like how the Icon of Judgement designated the Princess as the One Marked by Judgement for the same reason.

She panted. Wordless sounds left her lips. Her eyes quivered as she stared down at the base of De Jure, trying to prevent herself from erupting with rage.

“Voice. You know it too. When you asked me who I thought the Icon of Judgement was you were glad that I answered with Elysia. I’ve figured it out now. What that thing is based on.”

Frost’s hand moved down to her ring. It lingered there for a while, allowing her to finally collect herself. She considered leaving it in her Dimensional Storage, but then it would defeat the purpose of its use.

It was her final lifeline.

Her eyes emitted a dangerous glow as she raised them to match the omniscient gaze of the Icon of Judgement.

“It’s the Arbiter. The Icon of Judgement is the Arbiter. Twelve wings. Seven tails like the Seventh Apostle mentioned. The Marks... Am I wrong?”

< No >

< You are correct >

< I did not mean to obscure the truth. I also wanted to confirm it for myself >

“The all-knowing Voice needs to confirm something?”

< I, of all people, would never lie to you >

< “My Apostles are not free of sin like all of mankind. My kingdom is open to the purest. I hath offered thee ascension. Why does thee choose to descend? >

< The Icon of Judgement pauses and looks below >

< Its wings still haven’t found what it has been searching for >

< Like them, it also latches onto something >

< It holds something sacred that must not be eaten >

“The apple. The Captured Star, right?” Frost asked, not expecting to be answered.

But to her surprise, a prompt confirmed this for her.

< It all returns to the Captured Star >

< This one story will in perpetuity until it finds its most perfect conclusion >

< As do all tales >

“The Price of Paradise. This is the Arbiter’s tale. Is the Princess related to the Captured Star?”

< I was not alive at that time to confirm this. I came after the conception of the Captured Star. My cycles thereafter involved Elysia, never the Arbiter >

< But before the Captured Star was a person the Arbiter referred to as ‘Her’ >

“... So you’re telling me that the Princess is the same ‘Her’ she met when she was a Star? Then what about me? Why do we all share the same... same fucking appearance!? I don’t have a third life! I’m not...!”

‘Her’ was someone that the Arbiter knew long before the Captured Star became a thing. Yet somehow, Frost and the Princess were nearly identical. She of course didn’t know what this ‘Her’ person looked like, but she was guaranteed to have pale hair.

A sudden memory of the Arbiter returned to her as she fled to devour the Markers, her heart heavy with denial.

* * *

Michaela’s eyes suddenly widened when Frost was brought back through the veil in the Middle Sanctums. Her pleasant smile turned into one of shock.

“Is something the matter? Don’t tell me my face melted off or something.” Frost said.

“... nostalgia. It comes at times most unexpected.” She said, her expression then turning into one of longing. “I always thought it was a shame that your hair couldn’t be white. It’d suit you well.”

“You think so? If it was white, then do you think Iscario would’ve tried to imprison me –?”

The air became heavy all of a sudden as Michaela’s hold over the oceans wavered. An incredible amount of Nex radiated from her body, as did an overbearing pressure that nearly caused Frost’s body to shut down as if she was being judged on the spot.

“... if that were the case, then history would have played very different.”

Michaela had never made such a dark face. A warm, fluffy tail brushed against Frost’s cheek suddenly.

“It’s because you remind me so much of ‘Her’ that I am like this, Frost. That vagrant child who reached for a Star like me and pulled my hideous form out of my cocoon. They are not you. Neither are you them. That much is certain.”

Michaela then shouldered her own weapon – the False Price of Paradise.

“I must find them. But my pride has always been the blade that has repeatedly killed this heart.

I want you to find my true Price of Paradise.”