As the sun dipped below the Ferris wheel and floodlights flickered on around the cracked midway, the Feral Eclipse stage glowed with anticipation.

The crowd?
Unhinged.
Sugared up.
Wearing glow-in-the-dark werewolf ears and waving foam churros like battle standards.

Thane checked his board one last time, claws tapping across faders like he was prepping to summon a storm—and in a way, he was.

“Check check. Sub’s hot. Vocals tight.”

Gabriel popped up mid-line check, grinning. “I smell cinnamon and destiny.”

Thane: “I smell regret.”

The lights dropped. The crowd ROARED.

The band launched into their opening number, “Sound and Claw,” and the place detonated.

Within thirty seconds, the first churro flew.

Then another.
Then dozens.

Churros to the beat.
Churros in the air.
Churros bouncing off the drum riser and sticking to Jonah’s kick head.

Cassie ducked one mid-verse and kept singing. Jonah caught one in his teeth like a champ. Maya batted one with the neck of her guitar.

Gabriel?
Arms wide, basking in the airborne cinnamon like it was divine confetti.

“YESSSSS! RAIN SWEET, MORTALS!!”

Meanwhile, Thane…

Thane stood at the board like a wolf possessed, fur speckled with sugar, a single cinnamon stick lodged behind his ear like an unwanted accessory.

Someone threw a sticky churro directly into one of his outboard processors.

He growled so low it shorted out two line-level signals.

Then came the Goat.

Right at the breakdown of “Fangs in Bloom,” when Gabriel stepped to the front of the stage for his big solo—

Princess Nugget.

Still wearing her scarf, lipstick barely intact, and Bret’s band tee cut into a weird crop top, the goat burst from stage left.

Fans SCREAMED.
Lights flared.
And the goat charged like a cinnamon-scented battering ram.

WHAM!!
She slammed headfirst into Gabriel’s bass amp, mid-solo.

“HEY!” Gabriel yelped, stumbling.

Thane moved like lightning.

From the sound pit to center stage in seconds, eyes blazing, ears back, claws out.

“NOPE!”

He grabbed the goat mid-headbutt, hoisted her into the air like a rebellious toddler with horns and eyeliner, turned on a heel, and yeeted her — gently but firmly — off the side of the stage into a perfectly placed hay bale.

The crowd lost it.
Screams. Cheers. Goat chants.

“THANE! THANE! THANE!”

Gabriel blinked, bass still in hand, tail swishing in awe.
“…Dude. That was majestic.”

Cassie leaned into her mic with a grin. “That’s why we keep him.”

And then the band slammed into the final chorus—faster, louder, wilder than ever.

By the end of the set, everyone was drenched in sweat and churro goo.

The stage looked like a pastry war zone.
The fans?
Happier than a werewolf in a meat locker.

One more fairground forever burned into legend.