As the last notes of the song faded, pale fire still flickering around her, Susan looked into the souls of her companions. Lafey was simple, an honest creature that that hid nothing, brusque and arrogant as she was. Brian was still a child, terrified and amazed. Skittlestone looked up, and saw her staring through him, at the light that surrounded her, and he dropped to his knees.

'I'm sorry, Queen Susan. I lied to you. I did much worse things in Narnia. That's why Aslan wouldn't let me through. But I did them for my children. And barely a day goes by when I don't regret what I did, and I know I would never do it again.'

But although this planet was not a paradise, it was certainly not hell, either: this was a place for the healing of wounds and the washing of the soul, and Skittlestone, full of remorse, was not excluded. And she bowed her head, and he ran across the grass and hugged Brian.

The donkey though... she turned to the donkey, and she saw what she had known, possibly always known, and she herself knelt to it, her fire quenched and the song finally over.

'Walk with me, Susan.'

Its voice was female, deep as the sea, and full of love. There was none of Aslan's fury here, just an incomprehensible vastness that surrounded you, anchored you even though you were nothing but a miniscule point in the void.

And so they walked amongst the trees, the woman and the donkey. Blossom fell around them, and bees flew from flower to flower. Every time the pair passed, the citizens of this new world knelt. For a while they were both silent. Then, Susan spoke.

'You're the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea,' she said. 'This was your doing.'

The donkey laughed. It was like the waves lapping your toes; comfort from a thing vaster than you will ever be.

'Wrong and wrong again,' said the donkey. 'In this form I am Empress, thank you very much. And, no, it was your doing; I just gave you the key. You unlocked the door.'

'I'm sorry I abandoned Narnia, Empress.'

The Empress considered this. 'Let me tell you a story, Susan. You might change your mind about some things,' she said.

'I would like that.'

'Aslan, like all of my children, wanted to make a paradise. Aslan is a part of me that is proud, and fierce; and he is full of proud and fierce love. He wanted to make a place that was him, and me, and was a garden of happiness. When the children arrived, Digory and Polly, he fell in love with them, so deeply that he made the garden for them, and for children like them. But he didn't understand humans very well; and in particular, he didn't understand human women, because there weren't any there when he sang his song. The white witch from Charn wasn't human; she had taken actions that no human could have taken without being broken by them. So with all his fierce, proud love, he tried to make a magical place for these two children, to protect them from this terrible place they had come from.'

'And it didn't work out.'

'No it didn't. And do you know why? Children are complicated things. They want things that they don't need, and they need things that they don't want. And so Narnia became a paradox, a place for children that had to function for its adult dwellers. It was, to be quite honest with you, a hopeless mess.'

Susan laughed at that, and the laugh was a release of all the sorrow that she had held; and she felt the happiness of that moment wash through her and she treasured it.

'Oh, you'd better not say that to Aslan,' she said, without thinking about it. And then: 'Oh, I'm sorry, Empress.'

But the donkey laughed back. 'I am the Empress-Beyond-The-Sea. I will say what I want to who I want, thank you, Aslan included. But, anyway. Narnia was made for children of your world. And when you lived there, the first time, how did you feel?'

'I grew up there, and I became an adult; only it wasn't adulthood. It was children playing at grown ups. When I returned to Earth and grew into a real woman, it was so different. I felt lied to, and I felt such terrible shame that I wasn't what I thought I should be from Narnia. I cried so much. And yet I missed it so, so much as well.'

The Empress nodded, her ears flopping up and down.

'And then you could have no children yourself,' she continued.

Susan closed her eyes. 'I have never forgiven Aslan for that.'

'It wasn't him, Susan. He would have adored that: they would have danced with him in Narnia under a harvest moon, sung songs all night. He loved you and would have loved your children. No, it was a fault in your genes. In a hundred years time, your scientists will be able to cure it. But; it doesn't make it any better. I am so sorry for all your losses. All of them. They are more than a person should bear.'

'What did I do wrong, Empress? Why did this happen? How did I get left out of Narnia?'

'You are part of me, now Susan. You are a creator of worlds. A singer. You know the answer yourself.'

Susan did. She remembered the creation; of how she had notes to choose. Of how she could make her creation free, let her people do as they wished, and with all the suffering and misery that entailed; or it could be a prison, and her people would be forced to be happy.

With all the suffering and misery that entailed.

And she realised, that she had done nothing wrong: that Aslan had to make a choice too, to keep her in Narnia in a place that was not for her, or set her free on her own path; and that he had felt deep and terrible sorrow at the possibility of either. And that the universe span on complicated wheels that sometimes crushed and sometimes lifted, and there was no judgement; and lastly she remembered Uncle Harrold's advice about second chances.

She threw her arms around the donkey, hugging the Empress, and her tears rolled down her cheeks.

Lafey wouldn't stay. 'My people need me, Queen Susan,' she said, bowing. 'I underestimated you, again and again. You are a powerful woman. Thank you for all you have done. I will check on you from time to time.'

She nodded to Skittlestone and Brian, and then stared, quizzically, at the donkey. Then, she shrugged and vanished.

'They can't see you, can they, Empress?', asked Susan.

'It's easier this way,' said the Empress. 'Don't worry about it. For one thing, I don't want to put that poor squirrel through anything else. After what he said in the Wood Between the Worlds, I think he would explode with fear.'

Skittlestone was happy and sad, because that is the nature of the real world. But Brian was ecstatic, and laughed and tried to make friends with everyone, the animals and the dwarves and the other inhabitants of this new world. He ran up a nearby tree, and launched himself onto Susan's shoulder with a giggle; then he kissed her on the cheek, a dry little peck like a falling leaf; and he whispered into her ear.

'Thank you for our new home.'

It was the first thing he had ever said to her.

Then he jumped away, laughing and trying to catch falling petals.

'Will you stay here?,' asked the Empress.

She thought of Dinah, and George's party; but then she looked at the sleepy giants, and the fauns, and the dryads. And amongst them she saw humans, Archenlanders and Calormenes and Narnians. And she remembered what Lafey had said about wars.

'The worst souls are not here,' said the Empress. 'Some threw themselves into Tash's embrace, and are in another realm. Others just walked away into the darkness, consumed by self-hate. They don't exist at all, at least for now. The people that are here all did wrong, but they know it, and they wish to repent. There will be conflict here because that is what freedom involves. But I doubt there will be war, if that's what you are worried about. And you made sure that there would be no children, for good or for ill.'

'I think I shall stay', said Susan. 'Not to stop wars, but because this is my home. I made it for me, as much as for everyone here. I will miss my friends, but I won't be lonely if I'm here. I'll live for as long as I am needed, and then, that will be the end.'

'Then so be it,' said the Empress.

'Will I see you again?'

'Not in this life. Farewell, Susan. I wish you luck.'

'Goodbye, Empress. Thank you.'

And then the donkey was gone, and Susan was on her own.

She walked for a little, enjoying the fresh breeze on her face. The sun was high in the sky, and it was deep summer, where the bugs float in the air, and the trees fruit, and the sky is a bright blue and fleeced with clouds.

But, when she reached the top of a small hill, she realised that she didn't want to be alone. And for the first time in a very long time, she didn't need to be.

So, she turned and looked for Brian and Skittlestone; and when she found them, they were playing catch with a hazelnut.

'Can I join in,' she asked?

Brian laughed, and threw it to her.