The stage setup for the Arkansas Delta County Fair was about as glamorous as a lemonade stand duct-taped to a milking shed. A warped plywood platform, some twitchy string lights, and a questionable number of extension cords formed the heart of Feral Eclipse’s “arena” for the evening.

But it didn’t matter.

Because the second Thane hit the fog cannons and Mark fired up the VariLites with a vengeance (somehow rigged to a borrowed tractor battery and an inverter bought at the local Wal-Mart), the crowd exploded.

Locals, tourists, confused livestock — all drawn in like moths to a howling, claw-shredded flame.

7:51 PM – The Set Starts

The opening riff of “Moonwired” screamed across the fairgrounds. Gabriel stomped out center stage like he owned the planet, fangs flashing in the lights. Maya was a force of nature beside him, unleashing rhythm like she was dueling demons in her head.

Rico tore into a solo midair, jumping off a hay bale someone had kicked near the edge of the platform. Jonah’s drumline hit like a machine gun made of thunder and poor decisions.

Cassie stormed the mic like she’d been summoned by a full moon and three Red Bulls, howling the lyrics with such ferocity that the cows in the pen behind the stage started moo-screaming along.

Mark, from his lighting command perch, blasted red, white, and electric blue beams through a wall of fog so thick it looked like the band was performing inside a vape cloud.

8:07 PM – Chaos Level: Elevated

The pit formed fast.

But this was Arkansas pit culture.

One guy was two-stepping aggressively. Another was wearing a cowboy hat and crowd-surfing backward. A teenage girl held up a homemade cardboard sign that read “Y’ALL ROCK SO HARD I SPILLED MY NACHOS.”

Someone threw a fried Twinkie.

Rico caught it.

Bit it.

Did not break rhythm.

8:19 PM – Cassie’s Mic Dies

Mid-scream, Cassie’s mic cut out with a pathetic bloop. She blinked.

Thane cursed over the comms. “Compressor tripped. Standby. Do not murder me.”

Cassie didn’t wait. She grabbed Jonah’s overhead drum mic, dragged it to center, and started singing into that — bent double, screaming into a rig designed to catch cymbals.

The crowd went feral.

8:22 PM – The Stage Itself Rebels

As the band launched into their final chorus of “Ashes Howl Back,” the left side of the stage buckled.

Thane let out a string of profanity that turned two nearby corn dogs inside out.

Gabriel jumped sideways as a speaker tipped over, caught it, and played the next bar of music using his claws on the sub cabinet like a damn washboard.

Rico, grinning, launched into a backbeat that matched it perfectly.

Jonah held the tempo like a man possessed. Maya kicked the broken mic stand into the crowd, where someone caught it like a trophy and immediately tried to use it to air guitar.

8:30 PM – Final Note

The band finished in a firestorm of fog, strobes, and yelling.

Cassie threw both hands up like a championship boxer.

Gabriel’s tail twitched like a metronome still chasing the rhythm.

Jonah held up a drumstick in triumph — still sticky from fairground funnel cake.

Mark’s lights cut to black just as Rico nailed the final power chord so hard it knocked a string off his guitar.

The crowd screamed themselves hoarse.

Backstage, everyone stood drenched in sweat, smelling like ozone and kettle corn.

Thane leaned against the broken amp stack, breathing hard.

Cassie chugged a water bottle and said, “Well. That was biblical.”

Maya wiped her face. “We survived the Gravitron and the plywood stage. That’s gotta mean something.”

Gabriel grinned. “Yeah. It means we’re invincible.”

Mark muttered, “We’ll see how invincible you feel when I make you carry all this lighting gear back to the van.”