By Evelyn Ember In Cinder Prime’s dawn bulletin, the Ashen Levant ignited anew: Arch-Pyromancer Brimnial Nethetar of the Ember Dominion has ordered

Citizens of the Eternal Singe, it is I, Quinn Qryptic—Q to the scorch-literate—broadcasting from my basalt-lined bunker under the food court of

By Vernon Vexfire, senior ash-sniffer, reporting from Cinder Square, Pandemona Under a sky the color of charred parchment and the scent of

By Vincent Volcano, retired Hellwood arsonist of emotion and wearer of a scarf so red it voids fire codes. Flames Fade, but

By Evelyn Ember In the basalt heart of Ashforge, beneath a ceiling of ever-smoldering rafters, the Ember Bazaar turns fifty—its lava-lit marquees

Greetings, sinners and solderers! I’m Techie Tormento, your soot-smudged sherpa through the lava-laced lanes of gadgetry, here to unbox the latest resin-spitting

By Lucius Brimstone CINDERHAGEN, FIFTH CIRCLE—The World Figure Skating Championships of the Damned flared to life on Woe’s Day, when the basalt

Darlings, Nana Netherbloom here, broadcasting from the Soot-Swept Acres of the Ninth Cul-de-Sac, where the sun never sets because he’s on probation

By Vernon Vexfire, filing from the Embered Archipelago—where the smog tastes like old regrets and burnt copper. The Dominion of Cinder-East—our beloved