“Of what?” asks Mulaghesh.
“Divine possession. A Divine being could project his or her intelligence into a mortal agent to commune with them directly—almost using them as a puppet, essentially. This was quite common among some of the lesser Divine beings—sprites, spirits, familiars, and so on.”
“All of which the Kaj killed in the Great Purge,” says Mulaghesh. “Right?”
“Presumably. But the primary Divinities could not possess a mortal agent to the same degree. Their very beings were too large, too powerful, too intense. The mortal body could not bear it. Sort of like spiritual friction, I suppose.”
Mulaghesh is silent for a long, long time. “And … you’re saying you think this is what happened.”
“I’m positive of it.”
“How so?”
“Because”—she takes a breath—“whatever possessed that boy spoke to me. To you, outside the cell, it looked like we were simply standing still. But to me, something … took me somewhere. I was there for some time. It pulled me in. It wanted to see me. And it wanted me to let it out of … wherever it was.”
“It spoke to you?”
“Yes.”
Mulaghesh swallows. “Are you … quite sure of this?”
“Yes.”
“This wasn’t a side effect of the drug you used on that boy? Maybe you absorbed it through your skin?”
“I’m sure the drug contributed, but not in the way you mean. Like I said, a philosopher’s stone was often used to commune with the Divinities. Records indicate it acted like lubrication, in a way. I believe I might have unintentionally opened that boy up for … whatever it was, to possess him.”
“Whatever it was,” echoes Mulaghesh.
“Yes.”
“But it’s … It’s not a ‘whatever it was.’ Because you sound like you know what it was.”
“Yes.”
“Because if what you’re saying is correct, then the only thing that … made people combust was …”
“Yes. A primary Divinity.”
“And … if you’re saying that was what you saw, what took control of that boy, then that would mean …”
“Yes,” says Shara. “It would mean at least one of the gods has survived.”
Winning the War is most certainly the single greatest shift in Saypur’s history. However, both the Kaj and the War often overshadow the handful of years directly after the downfall of the Continent—which were just as crucial for Saypur as the death of the Divinities. But this period is almost completely forgotten.
This is likely because the events following the War are so unpleasant to remember.
After the Kaj had killed the last Divinity, it became evident that the Divinities had been protecting the Continent—and Saypur, to a certain extent—from not only outside attackers, but also from a number of viruses and diseases. And for the twenty years after the death of Jukov, the last Divinity, horrific plague and rampant outbreak became as seasonally predictable as rain and snow.
The estimated worldwide loss during the official Plague Years is innumerable. The Continent, being so dependent on the Divinities, was especially vulnerable: immediately after the Blink, nearly one-third of all its population died of various ailments. Saypuri soldiers—who were just as vulnerable, being on the Continent—wrote letters home describing streets stuffed with rotting corpses, rivers of the dead piled twice as high as any man, endless trains of litters bearing bodies to pyres outside each polis. Every polis suffered an explosion of insects, rats, cats, wolves—nearly any pest one can imagine. Everywhere one went in the Continent, one was met with the overpowering scent of rotting flesh.