Here be the back history that is found in the front of the newly released third (and final) edition of The Chronicles of Trevel: Dragon Tears.
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The Chronicles of Trevel: Dragon Tears, Back History and Beginning pages:
Life, Love, and Liberty are what you make of them, so continue, continue, continue . . .
The Trevel Universe is a place where fantasy and reality collide; where Truth breeds her lies in shadow and the dark is the brightest place to shine.
All human legend, fairy-tale (Faerie Tale), and stories of super human, mutant, or alien powers originate in the history of the Trevel.
To be Trevel is to be “at one with the power of the universe.” To be Bacht is to be “powerless, or human.”
But, these definitions are strictly from the Trevel who despise the Bacht for consistently refusing to bow to them as gods.
The Bacht (humans) don’t even know they are the Bacht.
The nature of Deeper Evil is appealing, attentive, accommodating, and patient.
Preface and Introduction
The Nine Base Energies of the Trevel Universe:
6} Fauna (animal)
7} Flora (plant)
8} Earth (& mineral)
9} Metal (& ore)
The Trevel have the ability to bend and manipulate Energy in manifestations of defense, attack, or simple daily convenience.
Most Trevel have one major and one minor in Energy, yet some double up in either a major or minor manifestation. Some even have a triple blend in minors. However, as rare as only in myth and legend is the Chameleon Energist, who has access to all nine.
History & Origins
The Trevel have lived upon the Earth since before any can remember and at one time walked among the Uplanders as divine gods. However, humans have a disease of spirit; they consistently refuse to be ruled. They choose, rather, to rebel against their divine guides, questioning everything they cannot understand, and trying to control things within their own perception.
As a result, a great migration of the Trevel civilization was orchestrated at the sinking of Atlantis. This granted humanity their desire to be left alone, and the Trevel their desire to live with their power, undisturbed.
Further transfers of civilization occurred throughout latter years, and now, over eighty percent of Trevel live in caverns within the continental shelves, hundreds of feet below sea level. Some still hide their true identities and share the Upland with the humans, whom they call Bacht. But only out of necessary co-existence.
Human history is littered with the interruption, interference and sometimes, the intercession of the Trevel.
The Trevel are not of their kind.
Thousands of years have brought about a mixing of the races. There is little difference between the pure Trevel families and the mixed ones; it is only that the mixed families have a greater chance of their offspring being powerless Bacht. Although, it is rumored that some pure marriages have produced the rare, powerless Bacht. But, all are assured that these are just rumors.
Mystery surrounds the origin of the Trevel. Some say it was celestial, some say it was beneath the earth. It is even said that they are images of a higher mind. The only known fact is that in pre-ancient days, they came to seek dominance over the Bacht.
One such dominating goal was to blend the two races and create a divine breed. They would live in the skies in a great tower that rose above the clouds. Only a sudden disaster of linguistic complication divided the Bacht races, causing them to abandon the project and disperse to the ends of the Earth.
“Any unification and true dominance on our Trevel part is now a completely unrealistic option.” Nimrod, the strongest of all the Trevel kings at the time, spoke his frustration and shattered the table at which he sat.
He was horrified to think that perhaps he must resign himself to a quiet leadership, rather than ultimate dominance.
“We can’t control the Bacht.” He continued, the table crunched under his pacing. “Their frames maybe ridiculously fragile, but we cannot contain their spirit.”
Later, in continued efforts of domination, individual Trevel set themselves up in groups, over the larger civilizations, still seeking a supernatural status in Bacht society. Surprisingly, the Bacht continued to revolt; sometimes subconsciously, as they simply ceased to believe in the existence of the Trevel.
When the manipulation of natural energy was mastered and engineered, the Trevel, to save their lifestyle from the growing number of meddling Bacht, took the opportunity to vanish beneath the waters. Thus, as a civilization, they were gone.
Some remnant Trevel still strove for dominance, and others chose to live in harmony with the Bacht. Thus began the mixing of the races, and the secret lives of the Trevel began to weave in and out of Bacht history.
Today, about twenty percent of the Trevel population lives happily in the human world, and the humans still don’t even know they are the Bacht.
Of the civilized Trevel nations, Atlantis is the center of trade and commerce. It exists today, 300 feet below the ocean, in caverns built into the oceanic continental shelves, coated in Trevel technology. But it is no longer located where you might think.
When the Atlantis sinking was contrived, great plans were created and carried out to move, as much of Trevel society, as far away from the center of Bacht populations, as possible. The great southern continent and its surrounding island neighbors provided just that sanctuary. Thus on a modern map of Earth, you will find the civilized Trevel nations hub beneath Indonesia and northern Australia. But the entirety of the Trevel nations, including the uncivilized regions, are scattered anywhere there may be access to the deep crust, mostly from watery entrances.
There is a force, HDP (hydro-plano) that can hold back the waters like a window holds out the rain. The cavern entrances are built with a double HDP wall that flows and sucks water and oxygen in and out with the tide. Connections are made where the HDP touches the ocean and the ocean touches the air above.
Everything is connected by the forces of energy that flow through them.
Through this flow, complete and complex climates are imitated to recreate what occurs above. Thus, a sunny day Upland is enjoyed, also, by the Trevel nations Underland.
Bacht can and do survive in these surroundings. Even the transports of the Bacht, with a little HDP mechanics, drive, sail, and fly into the docks of the great city Clusters. But the Bacht are never accepted by the Trevel without first undergoing much duress to prove their worthiness. Then, they are considered Trevel and are no longer Bacht.
Most of the busy, circle-cities are set in the depths of the earth’s crust, carved with great arches, columns, and supports. There they thrive with businesses and many a townhouse, or second home away from the deeper Underland country estates, for a large, growing aristocracy. But the wealthy Trevel aren’t the only inhabitants.
All manner of peoples and creatures populate these energized and magical places. Indeed, enough characters live out their daily grind here to astonish the calmest of hearts. Creatures even, that the Bacht call Imaginarie.
In the middle of the civilized cities, at the top, are the places of centralized defense and tradition that trickle into high-set living. Further around the spiral roads are comfortable middle-class-sets, and then on, down to the most ragamuffin of street urchins in the lowest levels.
The military is welcome within all city walls. To the Trevel, they are called the Strategist, or the Strategic Defense Force. They fully support the current royal family, led by King Darsaldain.
The king does not reside in Atlantis, however.
The Royal, white, circle-city of Lemuria is the second largest, civilized, city-cluster. It is the center of all society and government. Here, Trevel royalty and social rights are not passed down strictly by birth.
A king or regent has every right to elect his successor from wherever he wishes, but only as long as the Senate vote agrees with his choice.
King Darsaldain has one son, Prince Hadigan. The Senate would have the king choose someone other than Hadigan to succeed him, for, from an early age, Hadigan exhibited distasteful choices. Yet the king has dreams of glory for his son and hangs on in life to see if he can prove the boy fit to be king.
“I will not die,” Darsaldain whispered from behind the bed curtains.
The Senate Minister rolled his eyes at the Trade Minister, the Strategist Director, and a number of other government heads in the quiet room.
They had all been here before.
It was best to count the number of times the king’s health failed by the age of his son. Hadigan was two weeks old the first time. The queen died due to an illness from the birthing process, and the king lost interest in life without his wife. The next few times, Hadigan was six, nine, ten, and twelve. Each time, the boy was hustled into the Poseidon Memorial Parthenon, ready to be crowned at a moment’s notice.
Five times Hadigan was expected to ready himself to take the throne. What does that do to a young boy? If he were close to his father, he would be glad not to be king. However, if he were ambitious and kept away from his father due to the business of royal life, the result might be less favorable.
“Let us hope this visit is also wasted,” said the Senate Secretary, chilled by the night air.
He watched through the massive arched doors of the Parthenon. The Senate Minister would arrive, maybe soon, and tell them if the boy, now fourteen, could go free or stay to take on the crown.
“I hope he doesn’t die. I’m not ready, yet.” Young Haddy sniffed.
The Secretary nodded meaningfully and patted the teen’s shoulder.
Hadigan Andrew Hades Darsaldain, the handsome prince, desirable to all young girls of society, turned, as if to wipe tears. Yet, he snorted through a slender, strong nose over pinched and furious lips. He was not ready, not ready to make his move in a revolt!
Hadigan’s plans required many years, yet. He fully intended to be king. But he knew the Senate would never allow him access to the power that would make him the greatest leader the Trevel nations had ever known, even above Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades, (after whom he’d been named).
He must first complete his higher-level school training, preferably taking every course the school offered so as to not miss a thing. Then, power required money. Yes, his family was on a significant salary, but it was never enough.
Hadigan was a born businessman, and he believed that the key to it all was in the Mines. The Mines of Hanain were the centerpiece for his round table of power.
His chin-length hair was black and curly. It served as a good veil to cover his determined, ambitious eyes and complimented the compelling, handsome figure.
“I will have the Mines,” he murmured, and smiled as the Senate Minister waved heartily at the Hall entrance to say that the king was well that morning.
“But,” Hadigan smiled, genuinely relieved, “what of Latoona?”
Some years later, Hadigan had the chance to visit the growing village of Latoona, located in the Upland jungles of the Amazon.
There a marvelous vacation resort hotel for the Trevel was being built. Many believed it would become the new center of wealth; a playground for the influential and desirable. In fact, such hopes were put upon it as to challenge greater forces to deny its glory. This attitude developed without wisdom and not without consequence.
Magic in the Mines of Hanain
Beneath the Great Barrier Reef, (the water, the coral, and the ocean floor), are caverns full of power—some might even say magic. Magic it is, if magic is found in the forces that hold the universe together.
Trevel minds are wider and can reach further into the air we breathe and touch the energies that flow through all things. “Magic” is in the redirection of Energy, and the redirection of Energy is in the hand of the one whose mind can draw from it and bend it.
It is the magic in the Mines of Hanain that causes the beauty of the Great Reef above. The essence of the power-force, processing the mined jewels, feeds and enriches the Barrier; a glory enjoyed by all.
These mines contain an expansive yet concentrated measure of jewels and precious metals, twisted and distorted in a dizzying dance; like that of an addict in delirium.
As riches buy power, the mines also contain a rustic gathering of peoples from all over the Trevel civilization. They come for the glory dipped in grime, then leave with the stench of their own greed.
“Those towns, my Prince, are not for you.” The Senate Minister always warned, “They are full of dark people.”
He insisted on restricting the movements of the boy, Prince Hadigan.
“Stay in the City Clusters. They are full of more light.”
Those Clusters, so full of light, were many, and they were the focus of the young royal’s curiosity. He memorized the facts of each flourishing development down to the smallest outpost.
A complete understanding of his Father-King Darsaldain’s, entire empire was the desire of the boy. This, soon to be titled, Prince-in-One was destined to become the heir to the throne of Lemuria, Atlantis, and the entire civilized Trevel expansion.
Prophecy & Mystic Vision
The image was clear and vivid.
In her sleep, Colonah saw two women. The first was surrounded by family in a tree-top, cliff house, encompassed by Blue Mountains. The second, alone in a rocky, underground blue castle. Both women were in pain. Both women were giving birth.
Colonah watched the agony continue until finally a son was born to family and a daughter was born to solitude.
Fire sprayed as Colonah sneezed out of sleep. The five-foot red dragon called to her flock. She would share the vision with the dragon colony so they could seek out the time of the boy and the girl.