Lucy didn't stand up. He didn't reach across the bar. He just lifted one hand off the polished wood, almost lazily, and flicked his fingers.
Jin felt the air in front of him turn to a wall.
It hit him square in the chest. The stool went out from under him. The bar, the bottles, the colored lights all ripped away at once, and he was flying backward across the room. He hit the front door, and the door didn't stop him. It burst off its hinges, and Jin went through it and out into the open air, tumbling over and over across the snow.
The clearing spun past. Sky. Snow. The ring of stone pinnacles. Sky again.
Then there was nothing under him at all.
He'd gone off the edge.
