Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

The display switches to show a wide-winged silhouette, head on, dawn breaking behind it.
Instructor Nicholls taps the side of the lectern.
“Now for a bonus feature. Not giving prizes for this, unless someone can identify the dragon.”
A hand rises.
Nicholls nods.
“Speak.”
“Western Grand Crest. Kurbat, to be precise.”
Nicholls shakes his head.
“You’re not the first to venture that, but you’re the latest to be precisely wrong. Anyone else?”
Another hand rises, skin pallor obvious against the blackboards on the rear wall.
“Ah-ha. One of our guests chooses to join in. Going to impress us on the ground as well?”
There are a few frowns at that.
“Western God Crest. Her usename is Rykyan. It’s a trick question: at the time of that image, she was in her last tennight as a Grand Crest.”
Nicholls gestures for the speaker to stand.
“You’re right, as well as being very well informed. Who are you?”
“Tarna Brighid Sharane, Second Morningstars, sir.”
“Sharane… Not the Sharane?”
The slim figure nods, the sudden movement making pointed ears protrude through her purple hair.
“Yes. I was co-pilot and wing-second to my brother, Tressen. I watched Rykyan annihilate him, something she has since apologised for. Barely a tennight from evolving, she was testy and distracted. Put simply, we surprised her. She reacted instinctively. That image was captured and transmitted by my brother’s plane moments before the incident. I’m curious as to who provided it to you.”
Instructor Nicholls sighs, then nods.
“That we’ll need to discuss elsewhere. Most importantly, my condolences for your loss. Now, are you prepared to recount what happened, or would you prefer I do it?”
“To what end, Instructor?”
“When describing the unbelievable, I’ve found first-hand experience adds a gravitas I simply cannot match, and am grateful to be lacking – especially in this case, if I’m honest.”
Brighid smiles ruefully, then nods, taking a deep breath.
“One of the biggest problems with dragons is that they can be undetectable to sensors if they want. The only exception is thermographic imaging. However, atmospheric conditions can make effective spotting beyond 1500 metres unreliable, especially at speed. That morning we emerged from a cloudbank at 500kph to be confronted by Rykyan. I’m not sure who was more surprised, but while we were swearing, she spat at us.”
She pauses.
“Like most of you, I’ve seen the descriptions and the analyses. What it all misses is that being confronted by something your brain still refuses to consider able to fly while it’s ‘breathing’ a directed atomic blast at you simply overwhelms your sentience. Everything you are, everything you have, rejects the roaring light that makes you sweat blood while blinding tears threaten to drown you in your flight suit. I’m told I put us wing-over into a dive because we lurched nose-up when my pilot had a heart attack. They also tell me he was dead when I ejected from our pulse-killed Iscuail… But it still haunts me.”
A hand raises.
“If she EMP-fried your fancy plane, how did you put it into anything?”
Brighid ignores the slight and slowly extends a hand. Lightning plays about her fingers and crackles from the tips of her ears to disappear into her hair.
“An affinity for electricity, abject terror, and eight of my nine lives in one – literal – fell swoop.”
She grins.
“Honestly? I have no idea, and nor does anyone else. But here I stand to say right of way always goes to the named dragons.”
With a sigh, she sits down.
Instructor Nicholls taps the lectern.
“Here endeth today’s lesson.”