Jeffrey finds Skye washed up on the shore. Her eyes are wide open, hair tangled in fishing lures and driftwood.
"How are you not dead?" he asks, with a stunned half-laugh.
"Magic." she coughs. "The world is ending, don't act so surprised."
He shrugs. "Seeing is believing."
"I was the sea." Skye whispers, a faraway look in her eyes. "I was the sea, and the sea was me."
"Did you hit your head?"
"Dead? Jane's dead."
"She's not."
"She is. I saw her die."
"She's not dead, Skye."
"She's dead, Jeffrey!"
"The dead are coming back."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I really, really hope you're wrong."
"Why?"
"Because we've got a problem."