It was a strange sensation, reforming a physical well.

In some ways, it was like having a surge of ecstasy running through your veins. Thrilling and addictive. Not to mention the physical response.

Due to the sensitive location of the physical well, the sudden activation of the body's energies made for quite the arousing experience. For some, it could be the most sexually extraordinary experience of their life.

For Nimh, it was countered only by the sensation of impending doom as his body started failing.

He was so focussed on his task that he barely noticed as he slid sideways from the wall and lay curled up on the ground. Drawing so much vital energy from his organs was dangerous. Drawing so much vital energy away from his injuries was near suicidal.

But Nimh didn’t care.

He was tired of having this weak body and if failing meant death, he was prepared for that. The realm of Infinite Dreams was but a mistake away. And then the outcome wouldn’t matter.

Though Nimh had no interest in failing.

A shudder ran through his body as his physical well finally finished reforging. And it felt weak. So weak Nimh was surprised that he’d spent so much effort for so little gain.

Its only redeeming feature was it was sturdy.

Nimh could work with sturdy.

With a near desperate fervour, he started cycling the vital energy within his spirit well. A lot of it had been used up reforging the physical well, but enough remained for this.

The physical well had several purposes. The one Nimh needed now was its amplification effect. It was the predominant reason for training in the physical arts.

A fully formed physical well could act as an incubator for the body’s energy. Vitality included. Cycling vitality with the physical well could momentarily strengthen and reinforce vital energy.

Which is what Nimh was doing right now. The effect was diminished due to the weakness of the well, but Nimh could manage. Forcing the vital energy to build up to a crescendo, he sent directed bursts of vitality to his organs, one after another.

It was a painful, drawn-out process. Nimh was tired, his body and mind exhausted. But he persevered, not relenting until the last of his injuries finished healing and his body was truly out of danger.

Only then, curled up in a small puddle of blood, did Nimh let his body fall into unconsciousness.

The towering city of Mesaar was a sight to see. It was one of the first worlds conquered by the spirit invaders. So long ago that the original name of the race was dust and to call their people by a race was meaningless.

They simply were. They lived and prospered, following the tenets of the ancestors long since passed down and forever upheld.

That was their way.

As far as the eye could see, Nimh saw only towers of grey steel piercing the sky. As was the architecture of Mesaar. So old was the civilization here, that her people had to build upward. And upward they did. Until their structures touched the clouds.

At the peaks of those towers were small storm clouds, lightening the sky with arcs of lightning.

It was a useful way to generate unlimited power, stored far beneath the ground. It also told a tale of ages of growth and unbending will to advance.

“I hate this view.” A slender woman with a bulging belly complained. She pressed up next to Nimh, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Do we really need to spend our days up here?”

Nimh shrugged, pulling her close. “I suppose not. I just like the view.”

He smiled as he looked at her. Her strong nose, piercing eyes and firm jawline made him think of a bird of prey when she was angry. But when a smile was in place, Meira was the most beautiful woman Nimh had ever known

“Aristocratic privilege.” She smirked.

“I’m a Nimh.” He denied.

“Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.” She teased, her fingers curling through his hair. “The council lets you maintain your little deception but adopting your mother's name doesn’t change that you’re a…”

“The further I can distance myself from my father and his line the better. Better a Broken Line, than live with their curse.”

“Are you saying it hasn’t leant you some advantages?”

Nimh smirked, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I didn’t say that. But I am not an aristocrat.”

The playfulness in the woman faded and a look of sadness creased her face. “I wish you were.”

Nimh froze as if she had struck him. “If you asked me to…” he began.

“Then it would be the first time you ever disappointed me.” She finished for him.

“It would only delay the inevitable,” Nimh whispered. “Even the Caesin family is subject to our customs.”

“It would give us another twenty years.” She argued. “And the last three generations of Cassin's have applied for discretions.”

Nimh’s face darkened. “And all of them committed suicide out of shame. It is a hard life to be labelled a coward.” His gaze left her eyes and landed on her belly. “Even worse to be the child of a coward.”

Meira scoffed. “There has been no need for Spirit Invasions for centuries. It’s a population control tactic.”

“It is our way,” Nimh said softly, pushing away slightly before turning to face her. “But let us discuss this…again. I could apply for discretion. I might even get it. For the next twenty years, I would be labelled a coward, our child would be shunned and even my father's name would not be enough to turn those eyes away.”

“In twenty years, I can develop my abilities, my spirit arts are already leagues above our standards. In twenty years, I might make some advancements. But would I be able to leave you and our children for what may be certain death?” Nimh trembled then. “If I turn from our ways now and build a family with you, I do not think I would be able to face them and leave you behind. Not face them and have a chance of succeeding at least.”

A tear ran down Meira’s cheek at that. “If you knew all that then why pursue me in the first place. Why make me love you, Marcaeus?”

Nimh snorted. “Call it what you will. Youth. Love. Stupid singlemindedness. I have loved you since I was a boy, and I will love you till I am grey and dust. My only regret is it took you eight years to accept my proposal.”

Meira raised an eyebrow at that. “And would you have treasured me if I were not such a difficult catch? All that chasing around, and courting was necessary to drive home how impossibly perfect I am.”

“Very true. But the timing is…unfortunate.”

“More of your youthful exuberance?” she mocked him, her hand caressing her belly.

A thoughtful look crossed Nimh’s face. “You know, I was always taught it took two to make a child. Incredible that my youthful exuberance alone made you pregnant. Truly amazing. I must be a god or some holy master of…”

He cut off as Meira kissed him. It was a long kiss and for those blissful moments, Nimh could almost forget that he was going to die.

But in just a few days, he, like thousands of his fellow man, would join the ranks of spirit invaders. Would they succeed and conquer a new world? Would they be able to see their loved ones again, albeit with a new face?

Few succeeded. Those that did were revered, their names echoing through the histories and their family lines celebrated. Nimh knew their names. Knew their stories. He had their blood in his veins.

Nimh was hesitant. Some of those heroes had taken decades to conquer their worlds. Others took centuries, with only their descendants opening the gate between worlds.

He was not concerned about entering the Realm of Infinite Dreams. He could spend millennia within that Realm, live so long that his mind was twisted and decayed into oblivion. Yet, if he managed to find a way out, no time in the physical realms would have passed. In time, his mind would recover, and his spirit reforge.

But how long would it take to succeed? Could he bear to live decades without Meira? Could he stand not knowing what was to become of her and their unborn child? He told himself it would help drive him. They were the ultimate motivation to succeed and return.

He wanted to believe that it would be enough. But self-deception was not a pastime Nimh indulged in.

“Three years.” Meira’s breathless voice murmured when their kiss finally ended.

Nimh looked at her dumbstruck.

“Three years.” Her voice was stronger now. “If you do not succeed in three years, I will consider you dead and move on with my life.”

“You would remarry?” Nimh asked.

“No,” she replied. “But I will live my life according to my will, not that of your mother, nor your father's Lines. My son, yes Marcaeus, he will be a boy, will grow up strong, unbound to either.”

That declaration was a powerful statement. To deny, not one, but both of her husband’s Lines was tantamount to divorce. For Nimh’s family, it meant a complete end to his own Line.

“You would do that? Nimh was shaken by her words.

“If you do not see our child’s third birthday, then yes.”

They stared at each other, and Meira’s expression became fierce. Nimh’s heart fluttered as a fire ignited in his chest.

“Three years. You want me to conquer a world faster than any man in our history?”

“I want you to be the father of my children, Nimh Marcaeus. If you can conquer a world and bring me to it, then I will make you a home that will make you forget this planet. And if you can succeed in three years, then maybe the honour of that will be enough for you to bury your father’s shame and his line for good.”

Nimh chuckled. “If only it was our way for our women folk to be spirit invaders. You would have conquered a dozen worlds before breakfast.”

“More the pity.” Meira agreed. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t you dare possess an ugly man. Or a woman for that matter. If you do, then I will never forgive you.”

Nimh smirked. “Even if I succeed within your timeframe? Would you leave me just because I was ugly?”

“Oh, I’d still build the perfect home for you,” Meira said with a seductive smile. “But I would also put you through such hell that you will want to conquer another world just to fix your mistake.”

Nimh laughed, all hesitation gone.

“Meira. I think it’s time for me to conquer a world.”