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Eisheth wasn't feeling easy.

In fact, there was no particular reason for that: her work at the Lair, where she spent so many hours, finally could fall under the definition of "successful", her friends and allies were alive and doing all right, her enemies... well, they were working on the revenge, anyway. So, everything seemed do go quite well, but apparently something was wrong: the alchemist kept seeing strange dreams, different voices calling her, visions of mighty warriors, human, Halloween or horsemen, artifacts, chalices, swords, staffs, grimoires; sometimes she was sort of floating in the sky observing massive fortresses and epic battlefields with strange creatures living and dying in an astonishing symphony of victorious cries and last screams.

She just realized how little did she know not only about the world around her, Halloween, or Human world, but even about themselves, the Four Clans, their own history and legacy. She was often recollecting her memory of Instability portal experience: she couldn't help thinking of a mighty figure that looked so much like her people, and yet was leading human troops. But why?... She knew that some radical and foolish, in her opinion, Halloweeners sympathized with humans, but surely, she thought, none of them would bring it to the point of allying themselves with humans fighting against their own kin.

The alchemist blinked distracting herself from her thoughts. She was reaching Medea's quarters, and meeting with he Head priestess probably requires her to clean her mind, at least a bit. Eisheth wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for: guidance? explanation? a brief introduction to their history and cultural heritage? or may be some mission to just distract herself? Apparently, no matter what she's awaiting, Medea will come up with the completely unexpected solution, anyway.

Finally, Eisheth managed to relax; she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Medea was there, as one could guess from the specific aroma floating in the air: it was queer and romantic, a bit annoying, yet quite beautiful, like autumn leaves in the river.

The alchemist stepped in, bowing her head to the Head Priestess.

Mmmm.... how did she addressed her earlier? Your highness or your excellence sound pathetic. And she wasn't the queen to address her with "your majesty" either. All right, less thoughts, more action.

"Head priestess, I'm sorry to disturb you", the horseman began. "I think I need some guidance... in a very peculiar way. Your knowledge of our history, of our heritage proved to be amazing, and I'm seeking to learn more about who we are, and what we are, and what had we been in past, - something that I lack", Eisheth breathed out. "How did it all start? How did we come to existence? The reason of my troubles is a memory: at one of the instability portal dimensions I witnessed a great ancient battle, and there was something, or should I stay somebody leading humans and killing our kin.... but it clearly wasn't a human being. How could it happen? Why would any of use choose the humans side? There should not be any hunters at that time, and it clearly was a creature similar to us, and... I heard the word "Titans"." - she stepped back.

Medea, who was probably one of the oldest creatures of her kin, should know the answers: of course Eisheth didn't expect to fire all the answers straight away, but for the alchemist it was the only chance to learn something about it.

To think about it, Head priestess' words sounded very reasonable. Eisheth was quite surprised and angry she hadn't thought about it herself. Medea's voice was the voice of reason.

"I hadn't thought what would I do with this knowledge, but somehow I believe it will empower me. Eisheth directly, or it could help me be more certain of who I am, help me remembering it in a tough time. And besides, I suppose retrieving our heritage might be useful not just for me, but for others, as well. And eventually, help us to stay worth of our legacy, to be as great as what we carry with ourselves. And I'm always concerned about serving the interests of our Lost Clan, all of us; I never separate myself from the others".

Medea's voice was subtle and delicate, as Eisheth read it; though, the alchemist wasn't exactly sure she was guided by curiosity, her own feelings suggested there was something else about it... something yet unknown, smt deep inside her mind and memory.

As a Faminer, Eisheth never questioned authority and their orders; in fact she ain't got any idea how she she was going to rummage up a story and a memento, and Queen knows where she was going, in the first place, but she was always ready.

The alchemist bravely stepped inside the portal. The last thing she thought about, she probably needs to ask Medea later how is the priestess actually opening all those portals all the time...

Eisheth was there, - though, the horseman of famine couldn't realize where exactly was she. Mist, fog, snow? It was something like a liquid ice that surrounded her covering the entire surface of this world, or was the whole world just one gigantic white crystal? It was a familiar sensation for somebody who experienced insanity and distortion: voices, thousands of voices telling her something that she could not hear.

Eisheth was not alone there... a figure, or a silhouette standing nearby was too familiar, too known, but she was different, as the significant Other of the Head priestess Eisheth used too know. For a brief moment the alchemist realized she was looking either at past, or at future: indeed it was Medea, just the pattern of thoughts and emotions, feelings and Fear, the pattern that formed their entities, - this pattern was the same, but Eisheth was looking at another piece of it. A piece she either never noticed, or a piece that haven't existed yet.

She wasn't sure Medea could see her, but nevertheless she stepped closer.

"My lady", she pronounced swiftly. "Something is clouding you mind. Can I ease your tension? Can I be of any help?" May be Medea would be able to recognize her, though if that was past, Eisheth couldn't recall seeing this scene before. If not, at least the priestess could mistake her for smb else, smb belonging here. In fact, the horseman wasn't entirely sure how did she look in this world, may be she was smb else from Medea's perspective. If everything goes right she could mimic, she could paint herself into the canvas of this world, as if she always was a part of it.

That was the only way to proceed further she could see.