As Tom passed the word, a fireball blossomed on the central automotive span. Flames engulfed the width of the roadway and licked at the nearby upriver span. Screams arose from the wounded, but those at the center of the conflagration never screamed—incinerated before they ever got a chance. The arcane holocaust consumed living and organic matter, but left untouched the concrete and asphalt of the bridge and the metals and plastics of the vehicles on it. It was an impressive display of thaumaturgic power.