"Focused Mind."
Finn's concentration sharpened to a single point. Everything else faded to background noise. There was only him and the soul mass before him. Only the task of integration.
This was the critical moment, Vara realized. She noticed how his attention was completely absorbed at this point, and a glint flickered in her eyes. She filed away the discovery for later.
"Sense Phasma."
Finn's soul latched onto the adaptive form, beginning the invasive process of connection. It fought back, changing rapidly, trying to find a configuration that would resist him.
But it was too late. His groundwork had been laid too well. The multi-directional pressure prevented it from settling into any single defensive adaptation long enough for it to matter.
"Order."
The word stilled the thrashing form. Not completely — it still tried to adapt, still struggled — but the frantic changes slowed to a crawl and became much more manageable.
"Bind."
