By Evelyn Ember In the blistered borough of Scoria Grande, beneath a sky the color of boiled blood, Lucian Ashbane gripped a

By Lucius Brimstone BRIMBARCA, CINDERSPAIN — The cobblestones of Ash Avenue still smoke where last night’s procession of pitchforks and placards wound

By Sammy “Tongue of Flame” Sizzle, resident scorch critic and occasional smoke alarm Welcome back to my lava-spattered test kitchen in Lower

By Evelyn Ember The first breath is always the worst in the Brimstone Reefs of Searing Shoals, where the water isn’t quite

Hi imps and auntie devilettes! It’s me, Mischief Malachite, the youngest honors-student of the Ember Pit Playgroup, here to test the Cataclysmic

By Vernon Vexfire, filed from the Soot-Belt In another banner week for mayhem, the Ashen States shuttered a ring of pitch-stained embassies

BOOMING FROM THE LAVA LOUNGE—this is Hank Hellbound, your horned herald of hoops, blasting play-by-plays hotter than a backboard forged in brimstone.

By Evelyn Ember In the blazing corridors of Pandemonium’s Exchange of Agonies, traders clutched their pitchforks and prayer beads as the Strait

Citizens of the Scorch, it’s me, Quinn Qryptic—Q to the lava-literate—broadcasting from a lead-lined grotto under Smolder District, where the basalt hums