The set was deep into its second half. Sweat and fog clung to every beam of light like smoke from a wildfire. Gabriel’s bass growled low through the mix, driving the crowd into a pulse-pounding frenzy. Every song hit like a punch—clean, precise, primal.
And then…
A figure appeared beside Thane at front-of-house, easing up just behind the cable box without a word. Thane glanced sideways, already in defensive posture—until he realized who it was.
Leather jacket. Graying curls pulled into a loose ponytail. Signature tiger-stripe Les Paul still strapped across his chest like a badge of honor.
Eli Masters.
Lead guitarist of Iron Reign.
A bonafide rock god. One of the biggest names in classic arena rock history.
He leaned closer to Thane, speaking over the music like a kid sneaking into a theme park.
“Hey… I don’t wanna bother you, but… I’m a HUGE Gabriel fan. Like, huge. If it’s okay, I’d love to watch from here.”
Thane’s icy exterior cracked just a little. He gave a slow nod, keeping his arms crossed as if to say, “You earned this.”
Then, without looking up from the board, Thane pressed his talkback mic and whispered directly into Gabriel’s in-ear monitors:
“Hey. Ten o’clock. Beside me. Eli Masters. Says he’s your number one fan.”
A beat.
Then Gabriel nearly tripped over himself mid-riff, ears perking up like he’d just gotten hit with a bolt of caffeine and lightning at once. He turned, locked eyes with Eli—and broke into the biggest toothy grin he’d worn all night.
Without hesitation, Gabriel trotted straight off the riser during the breakdown, grabbed Eli by the arm, and dragged the legendary guitarist toward the stage.
Eli’s eyes widened. “Wait, now?! I still got my pack on—”
Thane stopped them mid-ramp.
“What frequency?” he asked flatly, already flipping switches.
“Uhh—CH16, band E, 518.400.”
“Done.”
Thane lit his channel. Boom.
That signal snapped into the mix like it had always belonged.
Eli blinked. “Dude…”
“Go melt some faces.”
The crowd was already screaming as Eli stepped into the stage lights.
But when Gabriel leaned into the mic and said:
“We’ve got a very special guest, El Paso… and I think you know this next one—”
—the roof came off.
The Feral Eclipse pack exploded into the opening riff of “Long Time Burning” — Iron Reign’s iconic power anthem. The moment Eli hit his first lick, the crowd lost their minds. He and Gabriel locked in like they’d rehearsed it for years, trading lead lines and walking the edge of the stage like twin wolves on the hunt.
Then—one by one—the rest of Iron Reign came out, pulled by the energy like moths to a spotlight. Their drummer ran up mid-fill. The rhythm guitarist fist-bumped Rico and joined in on the second verse. Their vocalist took a mic Cassie tossed him like it was fate.
Two bands. One stage. One song.
Guitar solos layered like waves. Vocals soaring in perfect harmony. Basslines shaking the rafters.
Thane was behind the board, totally locked in—adjusting on the fly, weaving both mixes like a craftsman possessed. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. But his tail flicked just once behind him, fast and proud.
At his feet, Javi’s drawing stayed taped right where it had always been.
By the final chorus, every single fan in the arena had their lights up. Some were crying. Most were screaming. One guy was literally on someone’s shoulders screaming “THIS IS HISTORY!!” into the void.
And it was.
When the final note hit and the stage went dark, the sound that followed wasn’t just applause.
It was roaring.
Unrestrained. Unapologetic. Unforgettable.