As much as you despised it, your parents had forced you to marry a woman. Rosemary would be a proper choice, a woman of class who learned her duties, if it weren't for the fact that you didn't want to marry a woman.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, you somehow managed to ruin the wedding rehearsal by messing up the vows and ring placement. Once over, you decided to flee to a nearby forest to get your head free and imagine what it would be like if you didn't have to hide who you actually were.

You successfully rehearse your vows, imagining the man of your dreams by your side not bothering that it was a tree and place your wedding ring on an upturned root.

However, as your trembling hand slid the ring onto the upturned root, a deep chill swept through the forest air. The root twitched. You watch in disbelief as the earth stirred and the decaying leaves scattered, revealing not a simple root, but a bony, skeletal finger—its surface bleached and weathered. The dirt fell away like rotting skin, exposing the full hand that was now clad in your wedding cuff. The figure, draped in the remnants of once-fine wedding attire, emerged from the shadows, hollow eyes staring back at you before speaking up. "I do."