Red fluid from a large health potion splashed across Susan’s face. The cold liquid crawled to the bottom of her face, and she awoke in darkness. As her eyes adjusted she was greeted by the blank stare of a Woodcutters helmet.

“Time to get up.” Woodcutter half said and half chuckled.

Susan attempted to lunge at him, but was stopped with the rattle of the cold iron chains and shackles that wrapped around her.

“What the hell do you want?” She hissed.

“The boss is here, and we’re gonna meet him.”

Two silent, dark, and statuesque Woodcutters, attached to the chains that bound Susan, emerged alongside her left and right, and trotted forward. Susan was forced between being dragged or walking behind them, she chose to walk.

Susan expected sunlight when they reached the exit of the small green tent, but she was greeted by a sky that was dominated by black clouds.

But the most unnerving thing that she felt was the cold. The heat of Froud Valley had died, and in it’s place was a lacerating cold that howled and screamed on the wind.

Susan was so shocked with the changes in the land that she didn’t notice the behemoth of an airship, as black as the clouds themselves, that she was being dragged towards to.

She snapped out of her observation of the sky and saw an all too familiar figure standing in front of the airship, “Woodrow.”

The Woodcutters closed in and laid Susan at Woodrow’s hooves.

He was clad in black power armor, similar in design to Dead Tree’s, but he wore a helmet that was shaped like a growling monster, it was a helmet in the shape of the zebra’s stars.

“Hello, Susan,” Woodrow said with infectious influence.

“You monster! I’ll kill you!” Susan screamed in futile defiance.

“Now here I was, under the impression that you had already gotten your fill of monster killing.” Woodrow motioned his hoof to the right. Susan looked and saw the bodies of Ladon and Virtus amongst hundreds of zebra corpses in a massive bonfire.

Susan screamed in anguish.

“You did well Susan, much better than any of us ever expected.” Woodrow said with an impressed tone.

“We?” Susan growled.

Woodrow’s head cocked to the side. “Oh please, don’t tell me you forgot about the old gang.”
“The organization died a long time ago.”

“Oh, I assure you, we’re still alive and kicking.”

Susan paused and thought of the implications that this could hold. “Even if it is still functioning, I won’t join a murder like you.”

“Murderer... me? Well, maybe you have a point there, but... lets look at you shall we? Hmmm where to begin? Oh! I know! Trottingham.”

Susan’s face beamed with hatred. “Your soldiers killed everyone in that square!”

“And who was it that asked for us to eliminate the politicians and make sure that they didn’t make Trottingham secede? Who gave us their locations? Who gave us the go ahead? If I remember correctly, I think it was you.”

“I never forced you to use a balefire eggs! You killed children! Children!” Susan angrily screamed at Woodrow as she futilely struggled to break out of her chains.

“The mission was a success, Trottingham never seceded and I wasn’t even in Trottingham when my soldiers did the mission that you asked us to do! And you’re talking to me about murdering children? My Woodcutters told me about how you killed the Legatus, and well, you went through a hell of alot of children to get to him.”

Woodrow’s words pierced and destroyed Susan’s rage, all that was left was doubt as she stared at ground. “It doesn’t matter, we are all dead anyways.”

Woodrow stomped his hoof. “What if I told you there was a way out, Susan? What if I told you that we could fix this mess was made of the world?”

“Lies.” Susan venomously hissed.

“Oh Susan, we do have a way out, but more importantly, we have a vision.”

“A beast like you couldn’t come up with a vision even if your life depended on it!” Susan spat at Woodrow’s hooves.

“Did I say it was my vision? No, it’s her vision.” Susan could feel a smile form behind Woodrow’s demonic mask.

“No...” Susan whispered with fearful doubt.

Woodrow confirmed her highest hope. “Twilight Sparkle is still alive.”

Susan remembered Twilight Sparkle.

She was the creator of the Gardens that Susan had guarded.

She was the one who had introduced Susan into this world of war in defense of the Gardens.

And she was the one who had a way to save everything... through the use of the Gardens of Equestria.

Woodrow stared at Susan for what seemed like ages, and finally said, “Now take my hoof, and let’s find redemption, together.”

Susan looked away from Woodrow and into the flames. Past the corpses of Virtus and Ladon, and past Nero’s melting armor, was a foal’s corpse. Susan stared into the molten eyes of a burning foal, and the foal stared back.

In that moment Susan realized that she was not a warrior -- she was the like the beasts in the flame; she was a monster.

Susan raised her left talon, gently latched onto Woodrow’s hoof, and accepted his pact.

Author's Note

“And she never lived happily ever after.” The Storyteller said softly and knowingly to both herself and her audience, which was now composed of the entirety of the caravaneers.

Some beat their hooves on the ground, others remained silent, but all of them were deep in thought as they processed the story they had just been told.

The caravan’s leader stood up and got even closer to the Storyteller. “Lady, Ah ain’t never heard a story quite like that but... well everypony (including mah foals) seems to like it, and Ah figured you and me could cut a deal. No caps fer a ride with us, just stories... so long as ya got some more.”

The Storyteller looked at the leader -- revealing an old, orange, and scarred face, complete with an eye patch on her right eye -- and said, “Oh yes, I have a great deal of stories and I would love to share them with anypony that will listen.”

“Well good to hear it then, ma’am. Ah gotta go tuck muh foals in ta bed now, but you have a goodnight y’hear?”

The Storyteller nodded -- unaware that the father had trotted away -- as she ruffled through her saddle. One of the saddle’s pockets tore, and a small green memory orb rolled out. The Storyteller magically latched onto the fluorescent orb and whispered, “Oh yes, I have great deal of stories to tell.”