A few days later, Feral Eclipse had taken over the back room of a gritty print shop called Wolf + Ink. Tables were buried in fabric samples, hoodie mockups, sticker designs, enamel pins, and the occasional cup of spilled coffee.

“Black with blood red,” Maya said, eyeing a hoodie print. “No debate.”

Rico added, “QR code on the pick tins. Link to our album.”

Jonah held up a beer koozie. “Put ‘Howl Responsibly’ on the back.”

“Only if I get my face on the van,” Gabriel grinned.

Thane, meanwhile, was putting the final touches on the album art — jagged claw slashes across a moonlit cliff, the silhouettes of the band howling into a storm. The logo Feral Eclipse blazed across it, raw and sharp.

Outside, the extended tour van was getting a full vinyl wrap. Gabriel circled it with awe. The final design gleamed: deep midnight black with silver claw marks slashing the sides, the glowing blue Feral Eclipse logo across the hood. On the back doors: their album name “No Chains Left” in bold, clawed lettering — and peeking around the rear corner, a grinning cartoonish Gabriel in full werewolf flair.

“Do you see this?” he shouted. “We look like a damn album cover.”

Mark folded his arms and nodded slowly. “We’re gonna look like rockstars. Hope we play like it.”

Thane looked over the group, their gear, the van, the new merch packed in crates.

“We do.”