It was after the second encore in Kansas City—a packed show at the Midland Theater, where the walls still hummed with the echo of thousands of voices chanting the final chorus of Field Notes From the Stars. The song had officially entered the main setlist a week ago, and now, every time they played it, the crowd lit up the venue with cell phone flashlights like stars in a digital sky.

But backstage, beneath the high of another killer night, a soft tension hummed in the green room.

Thane stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, talking quietly with Gabriel. Jonah was toweling off his neck, still glowing from the performance, while Cassie sat on a crate, flipping through a worn notebook with half-baked lyrics scrawled inside.

A knock at the door cut through the air—gentle, hesitant.

Maya opened it.

Outside stood a girl in her late teens, wearing an oversized Feral Eclipse hoodie and a lanyard with the venue’s “Production Assistant” pass hanging from it. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

“Um…” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry. I know I’m not really supposed to… interrupt.”

Cassie looked up. “Hey, it’s okay. You with the crew?”

She nodded, eyes darting toward Jonah. “I — I was at the Minneapolis show. The small one. The VIP night.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“I was backstage,” she continued. “I… recorded that song. Field Notes. I didn’t mean to… not really. I just… I couldn’t not. I’d never heard anything like it.”

Jonah stood slowly. Gabriel tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye.

“You’re the one who posted it,” Thane said gently.

She nodded again, lower lip trembling. “I didn’t even put my name on it. I just… I thought it might disappear if I didn’t share it.”

There was a long pause. She braced herself for anger, or disappointment. She didn’t get either.

Instead, Jonah stepped forward with a slow, quiet smile. “You saved it.”

Her eyes widened.

Gabriel was next, grinning like she’d just offered him espresso and a standing ovation. “You birthed a classic, starlight. That post has changed people.”

Cassie stood and crossed the room, holding out her hand. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t cool,” the girl whispered, still unsure whether to cry or laugh. “I just… I didn’t think anyone would ever hear it if I didn’t.”

Mark, from the corner, added dryly, “Best unlicensed distribution of a track I’ve ever seen.”

Everyone laughed.

Thane walked over, calm and kind as always. “What’s your name?”

“Emily,” she said softly.

“Well, Emily,” he replied, “how do you feel about getting credited properly when the single drops next week?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Wait… seriously?!”

“We don’t forget our pack,” Jonah said. “Especially the ones who believe in us before we believe in ourselves.”

Emily wiped her eyes, nodding. “Can I… can I come back and see the next show?”

Gabriel placed his paw gently on her shoulder. “You’ve got a lifetime pass, starcatcher. All-access.”

She broke into tears then, the good kind—the overwhelmed, everything-is-changing kind. And in that room full of musicians and werewolves and worn-down road gear, she was the one glowing brightest.