His merged power, that beautiful golden-red energy that had defined what he'd become, began flowing from him in visible streams. Not being torn away violently, but pulled, extracted like water being siphoned from a well.
And with the power came everything else.
His memories, too, she wanted to see how Jaenor had grown up.
She wanted to see how her boy had become such a terrifying force.
She stretched, luxuriating in having a physical form again, and when she spoke, her voice was silk over steel.
"Finally."
She looked at her hands, flexing her fingers experimentally.
"A body. An actual, physical body. I'd forgotten how wonderful they are."
Then her black eyes fixed on Jaenor, still suspended above her, still convulsing from having expelled her, and her expression softened into something almost tender.
"My son," she said quietly.
"My beautiful, powerful, perfect son. You've done so well. Grown so strong. Become exactly what I needed you to become."
