Star'Leen of the Tril'Lea,
mother of Cry'Star.

The review for "Star'Leen" by TwoLipsReviews.com

~*~ STORY DESCRIPTION ~*~

Her name was Star'Leen and she was a full trillen. They are cat like being that was known to be dangerous when provoked and they are also known to be very protective of female kind. Her home world was the planet of Tril’lea and it was almost on the other side of the Twelve Known Worlds, so for him to lay his hands on her was quite a feat indeed. E'Mor could tell that she was young maybe father bought her from some slave trader, he could not remember. Her arrival was as much of a mystery as why she was brought there in first place.

Her eyes were pale blue and always down cast. Every chance E'Mor had to show her compassion he did. He could not say that he loved her but he did feel for her. All E'Mor could hope for was that his father would get tired of his new toy, but he had other plans for her… and it had to do with E'Mor.

His father used the Royal Powers to force him to hurt her like that and he hated him for it. E'Mor made a promise to myself and in the name of Star’Leen to get revenge for this.

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Star'Leen
E'Mor's Romances ~ Star'Leen
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Excerpt from "E'Mor's Romances ~ Star'Leen"
FORBIDDEN PUBLICATIONS / Lulu.com.

~*~*~ Chapter Six ~*~*~

In true stand off fashion the father stood on what was left of the White Tower’s bridge and the son stood facing him from the top of the Black Tower’s stairs. The bridge itself was gone. The dragon had taken out the bridge when its heart exploded inside its mighty chest. As the King had wanted, the dragon died in flight and the master on impact with the ground. The King had won his battle, but at what cost?

King E'Mir had lost his mind. He had gambled it all and was about to lose it all. His devoted sons were dead, no guard would come to his call, and he was trapped. The bridge was the only way out of White Tower. Standing against him in the Black Tower was his own son, his heir, who hated him for all he was worth. A crazy laughter filled his head flowing out of him uncontrollably like sand through his fingers. He was now going to make his child pay for all of this mess.

"You are nothing...without me. I made you and you owe me. Stand beside me or fall," King E'Mir screamed.

"I owe you nothing. You have done nothing but humiliate me. No father should do that to their own child," E'Mor yelled back over the howl of the wind, which was intensified by the wings of the dragons in flight.

"Then die with your stupidity," King E'Mir screamed in rage over his son's denial.

King E'Mir's eyes began to glow with the amount of Power that he was generating. E'Mor’s fear balled in his gut. It was now or never. He tried to make it to maximum power before his father could do anything, but it was too late. The King sent a wave of power so strong it threw E’Mor completely across the room.

E'Mor was thrown so hard that he hit the right side of his head on the shiny black surface of the wall. He fell to the floor of the tower. E'Mor felt something trickle down the right side of his face and he knew that he was bleeding. He could not think about that, he had to focus on the task at hand. He had to get up and face his father again, he just had to. E'Mor slowly pulled himself to a sitting postion on the black floor and tried to get his bearings. As he sat there for a moment he realized that his vision was burred. He felt a weight on his right side of his face and fear started to set in. It was as if his right eye was not focusing. He knew his vision was the key to his royal power and without he could lose this fight and he could not afford to lose.

Focus! And do not let the fear conquer you, a voice came to him from his inner being, the source of all the power he possesed. Be the leader you were born to be. The fear is nothing more than a reaction...now you must be strong.

He started to stand but his balance was off. It no longer mattered. He knew what he had to do. E'Mor was determined to finish this once and for all as he headed back up the black stairs that led to nothing.

He reached the top of stairs and E'Mir now could see him. E'Mor watched his father's reaction as he reached the landing. He could see just a flicker of fear in his eyes. What was it that he was afraid of? Could it really be him? Did he believe he had won? Or was it something else?

Blood now covered his right shoulder, soaking his shirt. The hair on the right side, what was still left, was blood soaked. He had no choice but to strike again.

E'Mir sent yet another wave of power so strong that it was, for sure, stronger then the first blast. E'Mor, even with his now limited eyesight, blocked this great wave of power. The King was now beginning to doubt his own thoughts about his son and what he could accomplish.

E'Mir threw a wave of power towards the Black Tower hoping to hit his son. He was tiring and it was beginning to show in the way he used the royal power. With a wave of E'Mor's hands and a flick of his wrists, the wave of power coming toward him changed direction. With great effort he focused and pushed hard on the wave and he did something he didn't know he could. He turned the wave of power back to the White Tower, right toward his father.

Never in his use of the power was E'Mir ever able to do what E’Mor had just done. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

The power wave hit the White Tower so hard it knocked the King back into the tower and on to the floor. The power also knocked out the rest of what was left of the bridge on the White Tower’s side. E'Mir was hurting now. The fight with the Dragon High Lord had weakened him but he was not going to back down. He tried to get to his feet and took in the dusty air as he looked up. He looked up and saw nothing but white dust that was now being blown away by the wind. Wind caused by the dragon masters that were still circling these two mighty towers. He stood, although it was painful, and slowly made his way to stairs of the White Tower that he so loved.

E'Mor watched as his father reached the top of stairs and looked at him. He was not going to give him time to power up again. His powers were not as strong as his father's so he had to act quickly. His thoughts turned to Star’Leen and what his father had done to both of them. He thought about his friends and the sacrifices that they had made in his name. As his anger built, so did his power. Holding his hands out in front of him, he made three balls of power. One at a time, he sent them toward the base of the stairs. His aim was a little off but he did hit the White Tower. The three blasts shook the foundation of the stairs and almost knocked E'Mir off his feet again.

"So is that the best you can do? You should have paid more attention to my teachings,” King E’Mir laughed as he powered up.

E'Mor's eyes grew wide as he watched his cruel father, on the verge of sending another strong wave toward him. All he could do was hope that turning the wave around was going to work for him yet again. E'Mir held nothing back. He sent a wave of power that was so intense that it even amazed him. The wave was strong, but E'Mor's will was stronger. As he had done before, but now with great effort he turned the wave away from him and toward his father. When the wave came back King E'Mir had not the time or energy to do anything about it.

When it hit, everything moved as if it was in slow motion. The wave did not hit E'Mir directly it hit just below the base of where the bridge once was. E'Mor stood in the Black Tower and watched his father's face as the once mighty tower of the city started to give out from under him. E'Mor was hoping for the request of mercy, but his father just stood there and laughed as if he did not know it was over. He could see his father trying to power up again, but by now it was too late. The White Tower was collapsing under its own weight. E'Mor just stood there and watched as the White Tower slowly started to fall onto itself. The scene was surreal. When it stopped, all that was left was white dust swirling in it own dance with the wind from the mighty wings of circling dragons.

The rubble of the White Tower now covered the Dragon High Lord and his mount. E'Mor stood there for the longest time, looking down at the mess his father had started. The mess he had no choice but to end. Even though his sight did not work well he tried to look for any signs of his father...any signs at all. The only movement was that of flying song birds known as falcos. They would have to find a new home and the white dust would take days to settle...but it was no matter.

He decided it would be best that no one look upon this scene and the towers would now become offlimits to everyone. This terrible day would not be written for future reference. Hopefully it would pass without history noting it and be destroyed by time itself.

It was then he noticed the dust was not swirling anymore. The wind was calming. E'Mor looked up from his perch on top of the stairs of the bridge coming from the Black Tower that now led to nowhere. He was alone in the gentle breezes. The dragons with their masters were leaving and most were heading toward the horizon. He looked to the south and the direction from which they had come so early that morning. In the setting sun, he watched them slowly disappear off into the distance. There was nothing left for them here. They had laid witness to the fall of the White Tower. They had received their justice. It was now time for them to rebuild, find a new Dragon High Lord and form yet another era for themselves.

E'Mor started to feel pain and knew something was wrong with his face. He had locked the door from the inside so nobody would come to his father's aid, but now he needed someone to come to his. He prayed his feet could at least carry him to the door leading away from all of this. He slowly walked toward the entrance, but his balance was off. It was then he knew something was really wrong with him. He got to the door, unlocked it and looked back at the still scene. He watched as a lone dark feathered falco landed on the black steps that led to nothing.

I will leave this to you my brave dark falco. It will be yours for the taking. That is, if you want it, he thought to himself as he opened the door and quietly left.

All contents of this page is Copyrighted March 2006,
By Laurlee Harbig

If you see a page that could go for alittle something different, feel free to e-mail me.
loreann@midrivers.com