The Glastonbury sky stretched wide and pale overhead, a soft gray canvas that threatened rain but hadn’t yet delivered. Beyond the festival gates, the sea of humanity churned — matted grass underfoot, flags waving like banners of forgotten kingdoms, tens of thousands already packed into the Pyramid Stage field for the evening’s triple-threat lineup.
In the artist compound behind the stage, Feral Eclipse was chaos incarnate.
Sound checks were done. In-ear monitors tuned. Backline techs finished tweaking the rig. Thane was reviewing the setlist with Cassie, Jonah was nervously flipping his sticks in the corner, and Mark was cursing under his breath at the festival’s lighting consoles, muttering about British cabling.
Gabriel was practically vibrating in place, bouncing from bandmate to bandmate like a caffeinated pinball.
“I love this place!” he howled for the twelfth time. “It’s like Woodstock had a baby with a medieval fair and raised it on Red Bull!”
Thane, organizing wireless packs, didn’t even look up. “Channel your energy into not blowing out your voice in the first song.”
“No promises!”
Cassie leaned against a flight case with her arms crossed, grinning. “You’re worse than usual today. Nervous?”
“Nah, I’m perfect.” Gabriel struck a mock-heroic pose. “Because we’re about to own Glastonbury.”
A young festival intern appeared in the tent doorway, slightly out of breath and clutching a clipboard.
“You’re good to go in fifteen,” she said. “Oh, and Trivium will be loading in right after you, so keep an eye on time.”
A pause.
A very long pause.
Gabriel blinked slowly. “What?”
The intern didn’t notice. “There’s a quick turnover between sets, so once you’re offstage, their crew will take over. Just leave clear paths at stage left —”
“No no no no no no. What did you just say?”
She looked confused. “Uh… that Trivium’s on after you?”
Gabriel’s pupils dilated like a wolf seeing a steak.
“We’re… before Trivium?”
Everyone in the tent froze.
Rico mouthed, “Oh shit.”
Thane closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.
Jonah put his hands on his head. “You didn’t tell him?”
“We didn’t think it would come up!” Cassie hissed.
“TRIVIUM IS AFTER US?!” Gabriel howled, spinning in a frantic circle. “WE’RE OPENING FOR TRIVIUM?!”
Maya tried to intervene. “Technically, it’s co-headlining, Gabriel.”
“WE. ARE. OPENING. FOR. TRIVIUM.”
Mark muttered, “Brace for detonation.”
Gabriel grabbed his bass case, eyes wild. “I have to make an offering. A gesture. A sacrifice worthy of the gods.”
Thane stepped in his path. “You are not throwing your bass into a bonfire, Gabriel.”
“Let me worship them!”
“No.”
“But —”
“Play the best damn show of your life. That’s the tribute.”
Gabriel stopped, chest heaving, claws twitching around the handle of his bass case.
“…Fine,” he breathed. “But I’m putting everything into this set. I want Matt Heafy to feel it backstage.”
Cassie grinned. “Now that’s the Gabriel we need.”
The crowd was endless.
Feral Eclipse stepped onto the Pyramid Stage to a roar that felt like the earth itself screaming approval. Flags of every color waved above the sea of fans. Social media was already exploding. And standing just offstage, watching intently, was a group of four musicians Gabriel instantly recognized.
His heroes. Trivium.
He nearly tripped walking out.
But then the lights came up. Thane gave the count. And Gabriel, bass slung low and fury in his veins, tore into the first riff with enough force to make the front rail lose their collective minds.
Feral Eclipse owned it.
Thane mixed on the fly, Mark painted the night sky with a technicolor onslaught, and the humans in the band matched every ounce of energy with razor-sharp performance. Gabriel played like a wolf possessed—leaping from riser to riser, spinning mid-chorus, even diving to his knees during “Field Notes from the Stars” as fans screamed his name.
Somewhere around the second-to-last song, he caught a glimpse of Paolo Gregoletto at the edge of the stage, giving him a subtle nod of approval.
Gabriel grinned. A manic, wicked grin.
He closed the set with a full midair backflip as the last note rang out.
And as the lights dimmed and the crowd screamed, he turned to the wings — where Matt Heafy was now clapping, smiling, and waiting.
Gabriel’s heart nearly exploded.