Alan let out a helpless chuckle.
He could still vividly remember the bone-chilling cold that had emanated from his sister's body whenever her illness flared up.
That kind of cold wasn't something any ordinary person could endure.
And yet Isabella, at such a young age, had already endured it so many times.
It wasn't hard to imagine that her body's natural defense mechanisms had altered her perception over time—
—to the point where she had started crafting comforting fantasies for herself.
Alan crouched down so he was level with her and gently rubbed her delicate cheeks with his palm.
"If that's really the case," he said softly,
"then maybe that invisible, untouchable God of Frost is merely testing you."
"I've heard," he continued, weaving a story to comfort her,
"that many deities from the churches often test the purest of their believers.
And once they pass the trials, they receive powerful blessings in return."
