Jin's instincts screamed again.
Something was coming from his left, low and fast. He threw himself to the right without thinking, and a bolt of purple light cracked through the fog where his head had been, so close that he felt the heat of it on his cheek and smelled his own hair burning.
He hit the stairs and rolled. His chest screamed. The wound in the middle of it had closed most of the way, but the new skin was thin and raw, and every movement felt like it was tearing open again.
The next warning came from behind him, and he moved. Then one came from above, and he moved again.
