Citizens of the Soot-Swollen Dominion, it is I, Quinn Qryptic—Q to those brave enough to wink at the abyss—beaming a blistered bulletin
By Evelyn Ember, senior scribe of scalded truths, reporting from Gloomfjord’s frostbitten brimstone. At the witching stroke of the First Ember, an
By Vincent Volcano, retired Hellwood arsonist of the auteur variety, scarf aflame and patience extinguished. Cinemas up top have grown allergic to
By Evelyn Ember The cinders were still warm from last Cindersday’s synchronized barrages when the War of the Ashen Triad leapt from
By Techie Tormento, Senior Agony Editor and Amateur Thermal Throttler Confession time, sinners: I slipped on SulfurSoft’s G-3250 HellSpeed headset and promptly
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