He's right. Righter than maybe he realizes. Your choices are only as variegated as the world will allow. You can deny fate, you can circumvent the veins of things, you can stamp your feet and grind to a halt and stop yourself dead, if you really wish it. If you will it hard enough. But it isn't much of an end at all, is it? It isn't much of a choice. Because, one way or another, you're going to have to keep going.

You have to Continue.

They could change the choices they made. But could they ensure that eight children never died? Could they see to it that the crown prince of the Underground never became a soulless weed? Could they make sure that no one ever ate a poisoned pie, or drowned in their own blood, or climbed a mountain?

They were locked in place the moment they landed on the bed of golden flowers. One SOUL fusing with their own, the pieces warming and smoothing into the whole.

Determination.

"Our choices end where other people's choices start."