It started with a knock.

Not the normal kind—more like an awkward, hesitant tap-tap from someone who wasn’t sure if they were disturbing actual rock royalty or about to get eaten by a werewolf in pajama pants.

Thane opened the door wearing jeans and a tour tee that said “I Mic’d Your Mom.” Gabriel padded up behind him barepaw, yawning and cradling a half-drunk iced coffee like it was holy.

On the porch stood a very polite, very nervous man in khakis and an Edmond city logo windbreaker.

“Hi,” the man said, glancing down at his clipboard. “I’m with the — uh — City Development and Outreach Office, and I just wanted to… check in.”

Thane blinked. “We’re not building a second stage.”

“No, no! I mean — well — there have been noise complaints, but also a lot of very positive calls from local businesses.” He paused. “Someone from the bagel place two blocks over said their sales tripled this morning.”

Gabriel grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“So we just wanted to stop by and say… if there’s anything the city can do to support local art and performance… uh…” He looked around. “…whatever this is… let us know?”

Thane looked at him for a long second, then said, “We need a permit to fix our fence. It collapsed under the weight of fans.”

“Oh. Uh. I can expedite that?”

“Awesome.”

“Also, my teenage son says if I don’t come back with a selfie, he’s moving out.”

Gabriel leaned in instantly. “Say cheese.”

By noon, the porch had seen:

  • One city councilwoman
  • A Channel 5 news anchor
  • Two librarians (one crying, one holding a Feral Eclipse scrapbook)
  • A bakery owner offering free cookies for life
  • A wildlife officer asking if they’d seen a raccoon in a hoodie (they had not answered)

Out back, Rico tuned an acoustic guitar while lounging in a hammock someone had strung between the grill and the porch post. Jonah and Maya made a second pot of coffee strong enough to qualify as war crimes. Cassie helped Mark patch the busted fence with zip ties and a stage backdrop they weren’t using, effectively turning the backyard into a high-end fortress of music nerdery.

Emily emerged from the hallway in fresh clothes and sunglasses, declaring, “Channel 9 wants an interview.”

Gabriel choked on his iced coffee. “Oh gods, are they sending Debbie DeWitt?”

Thane groaned. “The one who did that viral story about us ‘destroying society’s moral fabric with werewolf bass riffs’?”

“YEP. Same one.”

Cassie clapped her hands together. “Oh this is going to be fun.”

Sure enough, thirty minutes later a white Channel 9 SUV rolled up. Debbie DeWitt stepped out in high heels and a perfectly ironed news blazer, armed with a mic, a camera crew, and a smile that could cut glass.

She looked at the house. The lawn. The fence. The still-lingering fans draped on the curb with hand-painted signs. And then back at Thane.

“So,” she said brightly, “how does it feel to be the reason Edmond has declared a Citywide Feral Eclipse Appreciation Day?”

Thane blinked. “They what?”

Emily held up her phone. “Yeah, it’s on their Facebook page. Official proclamation and everything. There’s gonna be cupcakes at city hall.”

Gabriel leaned into frame. “Do we get cupcakes?”

“Yes,” Debbie said, smiling like a knife, “but only if you behave during the interview.”

Gabriel grinned wider. “No promises.”

The news interview was chaos, of course. Gabriel tried to climb on Thane’s shoulders mid-sentence. Mark answered every lighting question with “Trade secret.” Jonah ate a cookie mid-interview. Rico played soft accompaniment on guitar like it was a talk show. Maya and Cassie did an impromptu duet of the Feral Eclipse Fan Chant for the mic, and somehow Debbie DeWitt didn’t spontaneously combust on-air.

The internet loved it.

By dinner, someone had dropped off a life-sized cardboard cutout of Thane with glowing LED claws and a speech bubble that read, “Welcome to the Den.”

Thane stared at it.

Gabriel slapped sunglasses on the cutout. “He looks great.”

“We’re putting this in the garage,” Thane said flatly.

“Oh absolutely.”