THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David knelt beside the small child, a distant memory surfacing of his mother's gentle ways. When tears had fallen from his own eyes, she would always find a way to make him smile again.

Cupping the child's delicate cheeks, he lifted her face to meet his. David contorted his features into an exaggerated expression, crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks. A small giggle escaped her lips, the sound like silver bells in the void. His thumb gently wiped away her tears.

"Why is such a pretty princess so sad?" he asked softly.

The child's trembling hand pointed into the darkness. David furrowed his brows, drawing her closer as he ran his fingers through her dark curls. "I don't understand, little one."

She pressed herself against him, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I don't want mama to hurt anyone because of me anymore."

David paused, his hand stilling in her hair. "Why would your mother hurt others because of you?"

The child's small hands gestured frantically as she spoke, her voice quivering. "They... they burned me. Mama cried so much. Then she became something else – something cold and scary." Her tiny fingers twisted in the air, trying to shape her memories into words.

David's eyes widened as pieces clicked into place. Old man Ced's warnings, the ancient drawings in the cave – it all made terrible sense now. "The Devil of the Wintersnow... she's your mother," he breathed. "Her grief turned to wrath, and her wrath became winter itself."

The system's words flashed in his mind with new meaning. He spoke aloud, still entertaining the child with gentle strokes of her hair, "Nightmare manipulation... that's one of her abilities, isn't it?"

His thoughts raced to the godlike figure in the cave drawings. "What about your father?" he asked gently.
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The child went still in his arms, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. David pulled her closer. "Hey, it's okay," he soothed.

She stood suddenly, facing him with desperate eyes. Her small arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed close, her body trembling with an otherworldly chill. "Please," she begged, "save mama from that man."

White light began to emanate from David's form, pure and warm, enveloping them both. He flicked her forehead playfully, earning a surprised blink. "Smile for me, princess. I understand now, and I promise I'll save your mother."

Her lips curved into a hopeful smile, and in that moment, cracks of light began to splinter through the void. David's white aura grew stronger, shattering the darkness around them like glass, illuminating the path forward to his true trial.

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The darkness shattered, and David found himself back in the snow-covered landscape. The entity wearing his mother's face recoiled, thrown back by his brilliant aura. She crashed into the snow with devastating force, the impact sending white powder billowing into the air like a ghostly explosion. The ground beneath them trembled, ancient ice cracking under the weight of their collision.

David's feet lifted inches from the frozen ground, his white aura pulsing with newfound purpose. Streams of light coiled around him like protective serpents, each pulse sending ripples through the heavy air. The entity clawed her way out of the snowbank, reaching toward him with desperate hands, snow cascading from her form.

"My boy, please stop!" she cried, her voice a perfect mirror of his mother's, each word dripping with manufactured anguish. "It's me, your mother! Don't you recognize me?"

David's response was silent but decisive. His mind reached out to his power, commanding it with unwavering certainty. [Nightveil Embrace: Living Shadow Fabric] materialized around him, darkness weaving itself into armor that seemed to consume light itself.

The shadows flowed like liquid night, each piece interlocking with precision until he was encased in darkness. As the shadows settled, they began to burn with an otherworldly darkness, and behind his helm, David's eyes blazed with intense purple light through narrow slits, cutting through the winter gloom like amethyst flames.

The entity stumbled back, confusion warping her stolen features. Snow swirled around her feet, responding to her unease. "Impossible..." she whispered, her façade cracking. "How are you wielding such power in my domain? This is my winter, my nightmare!"

"Vespera." The name fell from David's lips like a judgment, cutting through her illusion like a blade through silk. The very air seemed to freeze at the utterance of that ancient name.

The pretense dropped instantly. Snow whirled around her form in a furious tempest, stripping away the false image of David's mother layer by layer. The maelstrom grew until it became a pillar of white reaching toward the dark sky. As it subsided, there stood Brendah – or rather, the woman Brendah had once been. Her hair and eyelashes were pure white, like freshly fallen snow, but her eyes held centuries of pain and rage, windows to an eternal winter of the soul.

"How?" Vespera demanded, her voice sharp as ice, echoing across the frozen wasteland. "How do you know that name? That name was lost to time itself!"

David's role skill had already laid bare her truth to him. He saw it all – a queen of a forgotten realm, seduced by the night's promises of power and protection. But the night had betrayed her, taking her only joy, her precious daughter. It had corrupted men's hearts, leading them to take her child's life in flames and hatred.

In her final mortal moment, consumed by grief and fury, she had become winter itself – a curse upon the lands that had wronged her, an eternal testament to a mother's broken heart.

The snow swirled between them as two powers clashed – his light and shadow against her winter's wrath. Ice crystals hung suspended in the air, catching the light of his aura and her power, creating a deadly beautiful display. The true trial was only beginning, and the fate of the winterlands hung in the balance.

Each breath of cold air was a reminder of the high stakes, with every movement causing a cascade of delicate, shimmering ice particles. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the decisive moment.