A horn blasted through the air, closer than it had been before. A chill gripped his heart and he felt himself push on faster and harder, pumping his legs with as much speed as he could muster. He was held back by the woman who grasped his hand tightly, struggling to keep up with his breakneck pace. Hurry, he silently urged her. Faster or they will catch us.

As if reading his mind, she blurted out, "It's too far!"

He could see the glow of the fires surrounding their destination ahead of them through the branches of the forest where they fled. Suddenly his hand felt a tug and emptiness. It took him three steps before he realized that she had tripped and was now sprawled on the floor.

"I can't," she said breathlessly as he crouched down and grasped onto her shoulder.

"Hide here until the Chappa'i is activated." His voice echoed in his throat and he couldn't remember forming the words that came out. "Go."

He watched as she stumbled to her feet and pushed off in a sidelong direction to find cover, leaving him alone on the path. He turned and began fleeing once again toward the large stone circle covered in runes.

His feet splashed through puddles and branches whipped at his face and arms, but he paid no heed. His eyes remained focused on the dialing device for the Gate and his hands began to slap the sequence to establish the wormhole.

A blast of energy screamed through the darkness, meshing with the sound of the quiet scream through his mouth as he fell to the ground immobile.

His fingertips twitched as he tried to grab onto the mud below him and drag himself away, but he felt himself fade. A sudden burst of energy seeped through him and a cold emptiness fell over him. Pain erupted through his throat and something squirmed into his mouth before falling out onto the ground. He barely realized that it was the symbiote he had carried inside, having sacrificed the last of its strength and life force to ensure its host's survival. He continued on, barely realizing that the creature went limp and pale in the mud where it landed.

Grit and grime dug underneath his fingernails as he clawed toward the edge of the clearing to find the woman. So focused was he on that action alone, on not squandering the symbiote's sacrifice that he didn't even realize his pursuers had caught up to him until the boot of one crushed his hand.

"Shek'mal, Tok'ra," the Jaffa spat out as his boot ground down onto the hand's delicate bones. "Kree!" he bellowed, ordering his team gathered behind him. "Jaffa, shal kek!"

Two of the other Jaffa stepped forward and bent down, flipping the limp, exhausted, muddy man over. When he summoned the last of his strength to open his eyes, Jack O'Neill was staring at the sky, watching stars that didn't fit and he no longer had the inner fountain of knowledge to pull from. When he closed his eyes again, darkness overtook him before he was even aware that they pulled him up enough to drag him back to the fortress.

When he finally awoke, he was surrounded by a bright light. Even though it was blindingly bright, there was a thin quality to it, as if it lacked a heft it had previously held. A soft warmth washed over him but as he blinked his eyes into focus again, the sensation waned and he felt bereft. It was like being able to finally sleep in on a beautiful summer morning only to be awakened by someone calling you into work.

"The host lives, my lord," came a voice, muffled and distant. His vision swam for a moment and then focused into extreme clarity, sharper than his aging eyes had been capable of previously.

His brain clicked into sharp focus as well and though he couldn't see the features of the man looming over him, he knew exactly that he had been shoved into a Goa'uld sarcophagus and its owner was staring down at him.

Crap.