I made a helpful little guide for what happens when a corporation notices you and decides your teeth are a branding problem. Apparently the trick is to keep the bite, steal the catering, and leave before they polish the personality off.
Ember Court is where people go to buy the spooky version of things Cinderfolk get judged for doing naturally.
It sits between Low Halo and the Central Core, which feels appropriate because the whole district lives in that annoying little gap between “respectable commerce” and “absolutely not telling you what’s behind that curtain.” The front rooms sell charms, ritual supplies, heatglass, contract services, remedies, incense, jewelry, warding materials, and enough candles to make every fire inspector in Adyta develop a facial tic. The back rooms sell things with fewer receipts. City_Reference_v3_29.mdMD
Ember Court is Cinderfolk-heavy, but it isn’t some giant occult cult wearing a neighborhood as a coat. Most people there are just people. Shopkeepers. Artisans. Families. Service workers. Contract specialists. Ritual workers. People trying to eat lunch while tourists stare at their horns like they paid admission.
That’s the part I find funny.
Outside Ember Court, Cinderfolk get treated like they’re dangerous because of the horns, tails, ember-veins, eyes, or whatever other infernal trait somebody decided looked suspicious that day. Inside Ember Court, those same traits get printed on postcards, carved into souvenirs, painted on signs, and sold back to visitors as atmosphere. Apparently prejudice becomes culture once somebody adds mood lighting. Cinderfolk_Reference_v1.2.mdMD
And no, being Cinderfolk does not mean somebody practices magic. It doesn’t mean they’ve made a bargain. It doesn’t mean they worship anything infernal. It doesn’t mean they can curse you.
Although if you keep asking strangers whether they can curse you, statistically somebody is eventually going to become motivated.
Ember Court does have real occult trade. Good occult trade, too. Wards, charms, contract work, death-adjacent services, ritual supplies, heatglass, and people who actually know the difference between “haunted,” “cursed,” “magically unstable,” and “your wiring is garbage.”
Useful distinction.
So if you go to Ember Court looking for demons, curses, and forbidden knowledge, congratulations. You’ve discovered tourism.
Try not to embarrass yourself.
I left the house for one simple errand and came back with trash treasure, snacks, a cursed spoon, and no soap. The city assigned side quests and I was legally forced to fail upward.
