Come closer to feel it

The moon hung high in fiber the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the snowy landscape. Teri stood alone, his cloak absent—Prince Ivive had taken it to the tent while fetching two sticks for their spear practice.

When Prince Ivive returned, he found Teri lost in thought. "Is the ghost weaver pondering the love life he'll pursue once the battle is over?" he quipped, approaching Teri.

Teri turned toward him, his hair matted with blood, just like Prince Ivive's attire.

Teri grinned. "It wasn't funny, Your Highness. Try harder next time," he retorted.

Prince Ivive brushed his unruly brown hair back as the wind played with it. With a smile, he chuckled. "Well, it wasn't meant to be funny; it wasn't a joke, Ghost Weaver," he said in a low tone, closing the distance between them.

Teri furrowed his brow.

"Silenced?" Prince Ivive leaned closer, raising Teri's chin with a finger, a mischievous grin on his face.