Emberwood Living in a wasteland

Marina shook her head, refuting not his question but the idea that choice was involved at all. Anywhere I could go - it wouldn't truly be my place. Anything I could find wouldn't truly be mine. I had a life already, I remember that much, Her blue eyes were somber. A husband, children. A sister-wife. I can almost see their faces, but I can't recall their names.

No one chooses to be a ghost. Life slips out of our grasp no matter how tightly we hold to it.

Marina looked away from him, unwilling to speak the rest of her thoughts. There was nothing left but to try to find her children, if she could — to make sure that they were safe. That they could thrive without her. Perhaps that was why death had refused to take her even when she'd been so horribly battered by the sea; who was a god to stand against the love and fury of a mother?