Prologue

Calandra distinctly remembered the day she’d learned she was most likely destined for Madness. She’d been seven, a second-year novice, and she and her classmates at the Royal Academy were sitting in a circle on the flagstones in the Grotto atrium of the Opal Palace for history class. Calandra wanted to go sit on the edge of the fountain of Atargatis and change to ichthys state, like the erect statue of the Mother in its centre, letting her banded blue-green fish-like tail dangle in the cool water—but she’d already asked, and Daskala Medea had said no. That didn’t stop Calandra from daydreaming about it.

The daskala—a young woman with bright green eyes and a bright smile in her round brown face who’d just recently graduated from the Academy herself—leaned forward, trying to meet the eyes of each pupil in turn as she told them the story of Nadia kor’Hera, the Mad Queen who’d sunk Atlantis.

“Panaceas are extremely rare,” Daskala Medea said, “and Nadia was the most powerful one of all. They say she could move the earth without even touching it. She could make water dance like no one had ever seen. She could even control the wind. Unfortunately, when she went Mad, her great power was her downfall, and everyone on Atlantis, especially the humans, paid the price.”

Calandra’s hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Calandra?” the daskala said with a long-suffering air. Calandra had already asked quite a few questions that day.

“Panaceas use all the elements, right?”

Daskala Medea shook her head. “No, not fire. No one can use that. Some of them use air, though. Really powerful ones like Nadia.” She grinned and winked at Calandra. “You might be that powerful someday.”

Calandra pondered this, wrapping her hand in one of her long wavy honey-coloured pigtails. She hadn’t managed to use air yet, though she kept trying and she thought she was close. But Daskala Thea had told her several times how she would most likely be as powerful a panacea as her mother, and even more powerful than she herself was. Already, while most of her classmates wouldn’t specialize into healers or sirens for another four years, Calandra’s stone healing came as naturally as breathing, her plant healing ability surpassed many adepts’, and she’d made significant progress as a physic.

She raised her hand again.

The daskala’s smile became a bit forced.

“Yes, Calandra?”

“Why didn’t everyone just leave Atlantis and move over to Sirenia? The undines could have helped the humans, and—”

“I’m sure they tried, dear, and obviously some succeeded, or we wouldn’t be here.”

The daskala looked around the circle for other hands, but Calandra raised her hand again, jabbing it toward the arched marble ceiling until the daskala pursed her lips and acknowledged her once more.

“But why did Nadia go Mad?” she asked.

The daskala sighed, the cowrie shells woven into her long black braids clicking with the movement. “No one knows. But after the Sinking, she was condemned to the Abyss, and her consort, Alessandro, was never heard from again. Her daughter Melissa was left to carry the Atargasian undines through the greatest tragedy in our history. Under her guidance, we thrived and grew strong once more. Now, does anyone else have a question?”

Calandra’s cousin Narcissa, who sat several girls over in the circle from Calandra, raised her hand. Her pale blond hair was arranged in neat braids pinned up on her head, and her short sapphire-coloured chiton was made of the finest silk, the hems embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Her icy green eyes were narrowed and calculating, and a pit formed in Calandra’s stomach.

Tiny bubbles of surprise at the princess’s atypical participation floated from Daskala Medea into Calandra’s spirit. “Yes, your highness?”

Narcissa gave Calandra a sly look before asking, “Isn’t it true that all panaceas go Mad?”

The daskala drew in a breath, her discomfort hitting Calandra like sprayed sand. She glanced at Calandra and slowly nodded her head.

“Unfortunately, most of them have, yes. Daskala Thea is the only exception I know of.”

Narcissa smiled smugly, and Calandra shrank into herself. Her mother had gone Mad—everyone said so. That’s why Mother had left, so her powers wouldn’t hurt anyone. But it wasn’t until that moment Calandra realized the same thing was likely to happen to her.

That was eleven years ago, and much had changed since then—she’d become a panacea to rival Nadia in strength, or so everyone kept saying. She’d tried—and failed—to heal the Heartstone, the Light of Atargatis, and it had nearly been snuffed out as a result. She’d been trained by a dream spirit named Damon who claimed to also be Alessandro, Nadia’s long-dead consort, and he’d almost ruined her. She had started a revolution, exiled the man she loved, and discovered she had a brother—the first undine male to be born in over three thousand years.

She’d even found the reason why healers like her went Mad. But she had no way to stop it.

And her Madness had already begun.