Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) by Holly Lisle

caught a quick glimpse of Witte sitting on his boulder, suddenly very still, watching her intently.
    Forget him, she told herself. Think of Kirtha.
    Then she moved her spirit-self into the wall of light. This time, there was no palpable thrill of pulsing energy—with her flesh left behind, the magic couldn’t touch her that way. For the first time, she embraced the mind of the magic.

Chapter 7

    AS her spirit-self melted into the glowing barrier, an immense outpouring of energy filled her; the wealth of magic was so vast every touch of power she had experienced to that moment seemed as nothing. Her spirit sang with joy, she heard the joy as music, incredible music, and knew that song as the sound of creation—the singing of the very atoms of the universe. I am, they sang. Everything is. And over that exultant, complex melody, a thread of awareness touched her and embraced her.
    You have come,
it said.
I have been waiting since before the beginning of time for you. Welcome, heart of my heart and soul of my soul.
    She did not hear the words as a voice. Instead, she felt emotion—an outpouring of love, immense and overwhelming.
    For an instant she welcomed it, as a woman would welcome a lover’s embrace. There was about it a joy and a sense of fulfillment that was almost undeniable. But the more she opened herself to the touch of this other, the more the other surrounded her and engulfed her, until she felt smothered. Startled and bewildered, she tried to block off the source of that desperate, needy emotion. She couldn’t push it away entirely, but she did manage to damp it to the point where she no longer felt it would submerge her individuality in its all-encompassing embrace.
    Why did you do that?
the source of magic asked. Again, Faia understood the hurt bafflement without actually hearing words.
    Who are you?
she asked. She didn’t answer its question.
Are you Delmuirie?
    She felt a quick flurry of emotions then. The first was delight and recognition at the name. The second, which attempted to hide that delight, followed almost immediately; that emotion was flat denial, mingled with disgust.
There is no Delmuirie.
    Really?
Faia implied disbelief.
    I am all—I am the whole of the universe. I have awaited the touch of your soul since the beginning of time.
The cloistering, too-sweet syrup of other-love flowed around her again.
You thought of me as the Dreaming God when you first arrived here, though that is not my name. You have always known me, Faia. And I have known you since before your birth. I created you to be with me.
    Don’t be ridiculous.
    Ridiculous?
In the other, she felt a twinge of anger, quickly suppressed.
I brought the first of your people across all of space and much of time, to the here and now that I inhabit—in all the universe, I had found no others before your kind with whom I could truly speak. Once your people settled this world, I discovered to my dismay that they could speak to me, but they could not hear me. They were not truly of my kind—none exists of my kind. In the universe, I am alone. Still, the potential was there—and over centuries, I have touched your people with my power
and guided their loves and desires, while with every generation, the children became more like me. You are the culmination of my art and my dreams. You can speak with me; you can become one with me… you can love me.
    Faia was unimpressed by the “Dreaming God’s” grandiose explanation. She expressed sharp annoyance, and pushed at the confining bonds of his adoration.
You aren’t asleep.
    Of course not. I have never slept. I have listened to the symphony of the universe forever, but I have listened alone. Now I have you with me, and I will never be alone again. How wonderful it is to talk with someone at last. You and I will share the eternal symphony of being; we will create worlds together, and share eternal bliss.
    Faia recalled her daughter, and her trapped friends, and found within her spirit the