The roar inside the Accor Arena hit them like a living thing.
Soundcheck had been electric — Gabriel flipping into his usual chaotic bass acrobatics, Mark finessing the lighting cues with surgical precision, and the rest of the band locking in tight as if they hadn’t just crossed half a continent. But now, standing in the darkness just off stage right, the energy was utterly different. Paris was buzzing. The sold-out crowd packed to the rafters, every square foot of the arena lit with waving hands, glowing phones, and painted faces.
Cassie bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, shaking out the nerves with a grin. “This crowd’s got bite.”
Rico adjusted his in-ear monitors and flashed a quick smile. “We’re about to feed it.”
Mark, standing by the stage manager’s console, gave Thane a nod. “House lights down.”
The arena plunged into darkness.
For half a second, silence.
Then the opening pulse of the intro track rumbled through the floor, low and haunting, building into a rhythmic heartbeat that synced with every chest in the room. Fog curled along the lip of the stage as lights strobed in time with the music—first red, then gold, then a fierce electric blue.
Gabriel stepped out into the beam first—backlit and in full wolfish glory—bass slung low, tail high, a devilish grin on his face that sent the front rows into convulsions.
The scream was immediate.
Cassie took her spot at center stage, hair catching the spotlight like fire. Rico emerged with a casual spin of his guitar, while Jonah leapt behind the drum kit like a man possessed. The moment Thane gave the thumbs-up from side stage, Mark hit the main cue—and the entire arena exploded in a synced blaze of color and sound.
Paris lost its mind.
From the first chord, the crowd was already singing. When Cassie hit the first chorus, thousands of voices rose up with her, French and English lyrics tangled together in a sea of devotion. Gabriel roamed the stage with joyful menace, leaning into fans, posing mid-riff, and even balancing on the edge of the barricade at one point to grin into a fan’s livestream. Mark’s lights pulsed like a heartbeat behind him—tight, thunderous, alive.
Thane, watching from the tech pit, had to admit it—this one was special.
Mid-set, Cassie stepped forward, breathless and wide-eyed. “Paris…” she said, barely audible over the screams. “You’re louder than New York.”
The crowd erupted with pride.
She grinned and leaned into the mic. “Let’s see if you’re louder than London.”
Challenge accepted.
By the final song, the arena felt ready to come apart at the seams. Mark fired off a lighting barrage that drew audible gasps, while Jonah launched into a blistering solo so wild it looked like he was trying to summon lightning. Gabriel and Rico faced off mid-stage, trading riffs while Cassie powered through the final vocals like she was conducting the storm.
And then — just before the last beat hit—the stage went black.
A beat of silence.
Then boom—confetti cannons, strobe chaos, and a final blast of light that silhouetted the entire band as they took their bows.
The noise didn’t die.
Even as the band exited the stage, the crowd kept chanting — Feral Eclipse! Feral Eclipse! — the sound echoing through the concrete like thunder.
Backstage, Thane exhaled slowly and turned to Mark.
“Paris will remember,” he said.
Mark just grunted, faintly smiling. “Told you it’d be loud.”