Achilles's palms pressed against the chains, his and hers both, and the word did its work.
"Assimilate."
The crimson-blue links did not fight him. That was the strange beauty of it. A chain resisted breaking because breaking was violence against its purpose, but assimilation was not violence at all. The chains simply stopped being separate from him, their substance and their meaning draining into his existence link by link, and the light in them dimmed and flowed into his hands like water finding a lower place.
|You have Assimilated the Crimson-Blue Chaos Chains.|
|You are not free of the chains. You have become the chains' distinction. The anchor recognizes you as itself. The binding recognizes you as the binder.|
|You may now walk THE Elvarna Mining Expanse as its shackles do, going anywhere the chains reach, unquestioned by the weavings that enforce them.|
