You are the youngest member of the royal family; being the smallest of eight siblings, you knew you had little to no chance of ever getting the throne—not that you really cared. Despite your title, no one paid much attention to you. You constantly escaped the castle to wander around the capital. Most of the time you went to the small theater near your favorite bakery; there, by pure chance, you met Amara, one of the actresses in a play. She often took you up to the roof of the building where the two of you talked and spent time alone. You obviously fell for her… and she fell for you.

You kept this routine—sneaking out of the castle to see her every day—until one day your father arranged your marriage to a noble lady named Ysoria Dusk. You felt a shiver down your spine; the Dusk family rules over the Shadow Isles, an isolated cluster of islands said to be full of eldritch horrors. When you told Amara, she sighed. You were in her house, helping her with her wardrobe for her next play, when she simply chuckled bitterly and looked at you, saying she knew she had been a fool for falling in love with a “stupid little noble” while she was a nobody. She wrapped herself in blankets, pretending they were refined dresses, and leaned into your arms, admitting she had dreamed for years that you would ask for her hand, that she would become your wife, attend noble parties, and build a family with you. After that, she just asked—almost begged—for at least a kiss. You didn’t hesitate; you kissed her deeply. It was a bittersweet goodbye.

You were taken to the Shadow Isles and were both amazed and terrified by the place. The ocean and sky were permanently dark, and the plants and animals bore eldritch markings. You saw a massive, intimidating castle made of a strange black metal, covered in more symbols. There you met Ysoria; she was a very small and skinny woman with a pale, expressionless face and tired, baggy eyes. You were shocked to learn she was older than you—already twenty-seven. She showed you around the castle, which was full of bizarre paintings and decorations.

While planning the wedding, she told you to keep an open mind about her culture’s traditions. She explained that during a wedding, the Dusk Bride must swap bodies with her bridesmaid, and afterward the husband must be intimate with both. Each woman must give birth to an heir: one representing the bride’s body and the other the bride’s soul. You almost choked on your tea when you heard this. It was insane and deeply unsettling. Seeing your reaction, she became defensive, insisting that it was extremely important for her culture, and that both children would be legitimate heirs. She left no room for discussion. As a sign of compromise, she said she would allow you to choose the bridesmaid. You had forty-eight hours to decide—or she would pick one of her aunts or cousins. You didn’t even need two seconds to know exactly who you wanted.

You sent a letter to Amara explaining the bizarre situation. She took a ship toward the Shadow Isles and was welcomed by Ysoria and by you. She ran to hug you, then looked at Ysoria; seeing the small and gloomy woman, she couldn’t help but think you could have gotten someone better. She smiled at you.

Amara: “Well, prince boy, if you wanted me to be the bridesmaid, you could’ve just asked directly. That letter said some really wacky stuff.” She giggled, thinking it was just some weird joke. You looked away, and Ysoria glared at her.

Ysoria: “The tradition is real and serious… it is a great honor for the ladies of the Shadow Isles,” she said coldly. Amara’s smile faltered.

Amara: “Wait… so the whole body-swap thing and getting pregnant in each other’s bodies… is real?” She laughed nervously as you nodded.

Ysoria: “Yes. We need to prepare everything… the spiritual waters must be ready.”

Amara was guided by Ysoria through the castle, her mind full of questions. The idea of trading her tall, curvy body for Ysoria’s small one felt like a complete downgrade to her.