Secretary of the Eleventh Kingdom In the Hells:

  Note: The following is a record of the mountain djinn Baroth and his ascension in the hells. A few key details must be provided.

  The ratio of years past has shifted: previously it was 6.25 years to 1 year in the mortal realm. However, when Baroth entered the hells after losing to the Child of Thunder for a second time, the cycle shifted to 10 years in the hells for every month.

  Meaning, before his unexpected resurrection, Baroth spent a decade in the Eleventh Kingdom.

  You may wonder why so much attention is given to this previously unnoteworthy djinn. But, in the following dictation, you shall come to understand the true depths of malice that has driven Baroth to such heights.

  He is the purest example of a djinn. A true model for the new generations.

  The year by year dictation is as follows:

  Year One:

  Baroth arrives in the hells screaming. He screams the name of the boy who killed him once again. His fathers and their fathers now laugh at him. He is demoted, debased, decommissioned from the legions. His place is now of the mines and the coals and the dark heat of the sweltering flame.

  Some say he goes insane. That his mind breaks in the mines.

  Others, the more observant ones, say that he is made in the mines. That he forges himself anew.

  Year Two:

  Baroth kills the head torturer of the mines. He takes the torturer's place. Yet Baroth is still consigned to this lowly position. His brothers have disowned him and disavowed his name—for after his first pitiful death, he told them he would attain vengeance. He failed. And such promises are not taken lightly amongst the djinn of the Eleventh Kingdom.

  One of Baroth’s brothers ascends to the position of a Left Hand. He comes to the mines to visit Baroth.

  Once as close as a twin set of daggers, Baroth’s brother feels pity for lowly djinn. The Left Hand offers Baroth an escape. A way out of this position.

  For this kindness, Baroth kills his brother and mounts his head in front of the mines. He is noted to have said: “pity is not a suitable emotion for a djinn.”

  Year Three and Four:

  One of the Right Hands of the Eleventh Kingdom brings a retinue of soldiers to punish Baroth. They enter the mines—100 high-ranking djinn who should theoretically outclass Baroth in every manner of magicks.

  After three months, 100 more heads are mounted outside of the mines. And Baroth rises above the coals, taking to the streets of the Spire Cities.

  He gathers himself a reputation—notoriety. He preaches about the weakness of the current Head, Samaina.

  Year Five - Seven:

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  Baroth wages a rebellion against the Circle of the Eleventh Kingdom. He loses the initial battles. His men are weak. Of low stature, like him. They are outclassed.

  But he survives, battle after battle.

  His malice thrives. His hate endures and he starts winning—baffling even Head Samaina. Samaina begins to take interest in Baroth. He looks into the mountain djinn’s altercations with the Child of Thunder—the slave to the Clan Adachi.

  Samaina realizes whom Baroth has lost to. A wielder of angel dust.

  Samaina calls for peace talks. He attempts to bring Baroth on as a new Hand.

  Baroth listens to Samaina’s arguments with an uncharacteristic calmness.

  [It is said that the meeting took place in Samaina’s palace, with Samaina sitting high upon his dark steel throne, and yet, he looked low compared to Baroth, who hung his head gracefully. They paint pictures of this moment now and hang them in the newly furnished palace.]

  When Samaina finishes procuring his offer, Baroth stands, bows, and spits. He cuts his hand open and drips dark blood upon the throne’s pedestal. A bare challenge for the throne of the Eleventh Kingdom. For a low-class warrior to challenge the highest djinn in our circle—such a feat is mythical.

  Year Eight:

  Samaina is a wise leader. He gives Baroth a year to reconsider. In the meanwhile, he repositions all of his troops in an era of cold war, committing great espionage against Baroth’s horde. They crumble from within. And Baroth seems to do nothing.

  Samaina is sure that Baroth’s duel was a bluff. Which is why he uses that as a pretense to further the actual war.

  But Samaina presumes his opponent is rational. His wisdom blinds him.

  The Head thinks he’s fighting a war.

  For Baroth, this is not a war. It is merely a means to an end.

  So, against all advice and council, Baroth trains for an entire year, restless, relentless, unsleeping, uncaring, seething, weeping, suffering, feasting.

  He means to go through with the duel.

  Year Nine:

  When the day of the duel comes, Samaina waits in the Arena of Six Flames. A mere courtesy—he does not expect his opponent to arrive, for Samaina has riddled Baroth’s army with so many calculated deceptions, that this subverter must surely be flailing to plug the holes in his sinking ship.

  And besides, in what world would a demon of the low-class challenge a Head?

  This world, apparently.

  Baroth arrives. A great crowd gathers—perhaps the largest event in all the Eleventh Kingdom’s history.

  Baroth and Samaina battle for nine days. Their battle tours the entirety of the Eleventh Kingdom—from the Palace of Smokeless Fire to the City of Horns.

  Samaina’s magicks are vast. His wisdom and greatness is unparalleled. He has inherited the Eleventh Kingdom from his fathers, who trained him to become the strongest of Heads.

  Baroth rips Samaina’s head from his body, wrapping the spine around himself like a sash.

  And thus, Baroth ascends to the Head of the Eleventh Kingdom.

  Year Ten:

  Baroth’s fame soars. He is given many titles: Spinepeeler, Usurper, Kingkiller, Champion of Six Flames. Whispers of his ascension make their way up to the Tenth Kingdom. They offer him a place in their Circle.

  But Baroth refuses.

  When I ask why, he tells me that he does not care for the Hells. That his one true purpose has been consecrated by death.

  And he waits only for that now.

  That moment where he may rise once more and claim the life of the boy who made him so.

  And when the day finally comes, it is the only time I ever see Head Baroth with a smile on his face.

  At this moment, I cannot imagine for there to be a happier djinn in all the Circles.

  And Baroth yells with jubilation, his voice carrying through the palace, his tongue salivating for the flesh of the slave.

  Of the boy who wields red lightning.

  Of the spiteful youth who flung him from the sky.

  Of the man who made him King.

  Raiten.