The tribes that crossed from Africa to Europe felt at one with nature. They worshipped the Earth, the Sun & the Moon. As the Earth’s tectonic plates pulled apart beneath their feet, the travellers from the cradle of civilization found new homelands.
The moon and the Sun took turns commanding the sky, time moved on, and so did those original explorers.
These individuals populated the Earth, and though many evolved to mirror their new surroundings, for some, their ancient beliefs and rituals transcended time – journeying with them to new lands.
In ancient times we hear tell of Druids, mystical beings centred with the earth; the tellers of stories, the prophets of nature, the guardians of secrets and the guides of their people.
Christianity and conquering hoards chased the old beliefs and peoples to the edges of civilisation and then condemned them as barbarians.
Though condemned by modern civilisation, treasured beliefs and knowledge passed from generation to generation; imparted from mother to daughter, father to son, from eternity to present.
Energy lines; people have them, so the orient claims, and the Earth has them too. Throughout history, where energy lines have met – so has mysticism and enchantment. A small clan of ancient travellers, pushed to the edges of the Earth lived, loved and diluted their bloodlines – but deep in their DNA ran the genes of mystics.
A small village nestled deep in the sea mists of the Cornish coast. A place where the seagulls cry at the beauty the combined forces of nature have wrought. A sloping valley, with luscious undergrowth, pearlescent grains of lightly toasted sand, and the turquoise waters gently shelving into the deep. Running under the valley lies a cable. A cable like no other; buried beneath the ageless grains of sand and weather hewn rock is buried a link between the plates. A link that buzzes, that pulsates, that hums, that fizzes and crackles with energy, with information.
The cable brought the frissons of a long forgotten energy, hidden in the half-histories passed from generation to generation, until the stories became myths; barely glimmers of memory in time.