fargo35 lava

Sloan tried to run to her but the lava cracks in the ground spread with a vast fracturing of the earth. Torrents of fire forced Sloan back. The roundabout expanded and shattered, chunks of concrete and asphalt breaking off as red rivers pulsed and flowed beneath. The hospital walls lit up with an orange glow and the temperature skyrocketed. The remaining lesser wraiths lost their footing and plummeted into the crevices, bursting into flame as they sank into the lava. Their metallic screams rang like obstinate fax machines. Only the Buddha wraith remained. It hovered with a serene grace, a holy om, above the spreading swirl of fire and molten rock. The ground directly below its crossed legs sank in a conic depression. For a brief moment, a pervasive, almost real image of Clair's body sinking into the Minneapolis snow grabbed Sloan's mind, so vaguely hallucinogenic in nature that she had no clue whether her subconscious had gone on the fritz or the wraith exuded powers of minor mental manipulation.

(Fargo, Chapter 35)