The roar of the crowd was still reverberating in their chests as the pack and crew ducked behind the heavy stage curtain, trailing sweat and adrenaline like storm clouds. Gabriel was vibrating — tail flicking wildly, breathing hard, a manic grin carved across his muzzle as he practically skipped backward off the final riser.

“Ireland, man! Ireland!!” he howled, nearly colliding with Jonah and Rico, who were both trying to catch their breath against a stack of amp cases.

Mark, already halfway out of his headset rig, leaned against the lighting console with a rare smirk. “We may have just committed lighting-based emotional terrorism,” he muttered. “Good.”

Thane was still running on mission mode, coiling cables with expert speed, though the sheen of pride on his face couldn’t be missed. “All wireless packs are accounted for, no one tripped over pyro lines, and no one died. I call that a win.”

“You were gonna say ‘again,’ weren’t you?” Cassie chimed in as she threw her towel over her shoulder, grinning ear to ear.

“…No comment,” Thane muttered, as Gabriel slid dramatically across the floor on his knees, still playing air bass, and crashed gently into Thane’s shins with a theatrical flop.

“I give tonight’s show a 13 out of 10!” Gabriel gasped from the floor. “Also, I might pass out, but it’ll be with style!”

Emily popped her head into the green room doorway, eyes wide. “Uh… we might have a situation.”

Everyone turned.

Outside, in the narrow hallway that led to the back lot, came a sudden chorus of frantic voices — some shouting, some shrieking, one clearly giggling uncontrollably.

Gabriel was already on his feet. “Oh gods, it’s fans again, isn’t it?”

“Nope,” Emily said, grinning. “Worse.”

Before she could explain, the door burst open fully — and in rolled a three-tiered cake the size of a Smart Car.

Rico blinked. “Are we under attack by pastry?”

Two venue staffers followed behind it, both beet red and laughing nervously. One of them held up a shaky hand. “It’s from the mayor. Of the town. They saw the set. Said it was the best live show ever performed on Irish soil and wanted to thank you.”

Gabriel’s ears perked. “Wait. Like… actually?”

Mark gave the cake a long, slow look. “How the hell did they get this made during the show?”

Cassie had already pulled out her phone, recording. “They probably started when we hit soundcheck.”

The cake was decorated in emerald green, gold piping, and edible sugar-sculpted werewolves playing instruments — each one uncannily accurate. Thane’s sugar wolf had the most serious scowl ever created in fondant. Gabriel’s was mid-leap, claws and tail in the air, holding a tiny red bass guitar. Even Mark’s looked gruff and annoyed in edible grayscale fur.

“That’s way too much detail,” Maya whispered.

Thane raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me there’s no one in the cake.”

Before anyone could test that theory, the hallway erupted again — this time with flashes of camera lights. A television crew had shown up, along with several more dignitaries from the mayor’s office, all asking for photos, sound bites, and impromptu interviews.

“We can’t keep living like this,” Mark muttered under his breath as someone handed him a child’s drawing of a werewolf with sparkles glued to its fur.

Gabriel, now being hugged by an elderly woman in a “WOLVES DO IT BETTER” t-shirt, looked over and beamed. “Correction — yes we can.”

It wasn’t until the chaos died down a little that the real surprise hit.

Rico wandered into the side lounge, where a local guitar tech had left a neatly labeled box on a table. Curious, he cracked it open — and his jaw dropped.

Inside was a pristine, vintage 1976 Irish-built Avalon acoustic-electric guitar… signed by every member of Thin Lizzy.

“Oh my gods,” Rico breathed.

The note inside, scrawled in careful script, read:

“To the next generation of chaos-makers. Ireland’s proud to host you. Keep raising hell.
– A friend in the industry.”

He slowly carried the guitar out into the green room, and the moment he held it up, everyone went still.

Cassie covered her mouth.

Maya let out a slow, stunned whistle.

Even Gabriel stopped mid-sentence. “…Is that real?”

“Looks like it,” Rico said. “And whoever left it knew what they were doing.”

The mood shifted from electric to reverent. For a full minute, no one spoke. Then Jonah clapped Rico on the back with a wide grin. “Well? You gonna play that thing, or just stare at it all night?”

As the night wore on, the green room glowed with soft conversation, leftover cake crumbs, and the warm acoustic strum of that vintage guitar. Outside, the venue slowly emptied, though a small crowd still lingered in the back lot, singing Eclipse lyrics and refusing to leave until security literally herded them out.

Gabriel flopped sideways into Thane’s lap on the couch, looking up at his bandmate with that familiar, wild sparkle in his eyes. “Best. Show. Ever.”

Thane just chuckled softly and scratched behind Gabriel’s ear. “You say that every time.”

“Yeah. And one day I’ll be right forever.”