Underworld Updates

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from the Scorched Marches of Pandemonium’s Fringe—where the air tastes like burned prayers and promises come pre-singed Thirty-one souls were snuffed and at least 169 more were torn and scorched this Balefireday when a suicide wretch ignited himself inside the Temple of Khadija Al-Kubra the Greater Gloom, a Shiite sanctum crouched […]

By Vernon Vexfire CINDERGRAD—In the ashen light of the Ninth Smog, filmmaker Julla Lamentov slipped through the alleys of Ember Square with nothing but a cracked hellphone and a stubborn need to catch truth before the censors could strangle it. Her new documentary, My Undesirable Fiends: Part I — Last Air in Cindergrad, tracks the

By Lucius Brimstone, Senior Scribe of the Smoldering Beat In the latest shard of our Far-Flung Hellcards series, Hekate Cindersong — our correspondent stationed in Blackfrost Bastion, a beleaguered ward of the Ashen Reach — struck a match in the bureau and called it optimism. One candle in a city gnawed by the Iron Tsar’s

By Evelyn Ember, Senior Arson-Analyst On the 16th Night of the Ember Moon, Year of the Scorched Ledger, prosecutors from Pandemonium’s Palais de Cinders descended upon the smoldering glass tower of Screech, the realm’s most unholy social chasm, owned by the ever-grinning tech-tyrant Lord Pyreon of the Iron Comet. The raid, carried out by the

By Vernon Vexfire, senior curmudgeon of the brimstone beat. At dawn’s dim flicker in the Sootlands, the Ashfall Gate at Scoria Rift creaked open just wide enough to let a file of souls squeeze through without scuffing the paint on the iron spikes. Fifty out, fifty in—call it a ceremonial shimmy of the infernal turnstile,

By Evelyn Ember In the charred heart of the volcanic resort of Crag-Mor’Tarna, where brimstone spas steam and ski runs are carved into obsidian slopes, a midnight spectacle at the Gloaming Constellaria bar and lounge collapsed into catastrophe. Forty-one damned and newly-damned are now accounted among the ash, with more than a hundred scorched or

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from Scorch Alley beneath the Blistering Sky — I’ve seen a lot of charred bargains break in this pit, but yesterday’s ledger was a fresh scorch mark even by our standards. On the thirty-first dusk of Embermonth, strikes hammered the Cinderspan Strip, leaving at least twenty-three souls unstitched from their bodies—one

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from the scorched corridors of Charcoal City’s Ministry Row, where truth goes to sweat. In Ashuary of the Year of Soot 2026, Ember Lake—flinty handmaiden to the Ember Throne and acting Overmistress of the Hadean Agency for Global Murmurs—slid onto the Serpentine Service of Voice of Abaddon for a prime-time benediction

By Evelyn Ember RABLAZE, DEMONIC DOMAIN — The Ashes Cup of Damnations ended not with a whistle but a wail, as the final clash between the Ember Lions of Searingal and the Djinn of Marrokrag descended into a carnival of chaos beneath the smog-choked floodlights of the Pit of Rabblaze on the 18th Night of

By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from the Embered Edge, where the only thing thinner than the air is patience. If you’re looking for quiet in Brimblast, City of a Billion Sighs, you’ve swallowed the wrong ember. Still, the ash-streaked promenades along Cinder Shore serve up something like peace—if you squint past the sulfur and ignore the