The road into Glastonbury Festival wound through miles of sleepy countryside suddenly broken by sprawling tents, towering stages, and a rainbow of sound and color stretching as far as the horizon. The iconic Pyramid Stage loomed in the distance like a cathedral to music itself — angular, massive, already humming with early sound checks and crowd noise. It was sacred ground, and the wolves knew it.
The red tour bus pulled around to the artist access road, escorted by a trio of high-vis security vehicles. A laminated “FERAL ECLIPSE – ARTIST” pass clung to the windshield, but it didn’t stop the gate crew from double-checking it twice with visible disbelief. One volunteer actually gasped when she saw Gabriel wave from the front seat and squealed so hard her radio shorted out.
As soon as the bus doors opened, the crisp morning air hit the crew — along with the low, pulsing rhythm of a nearby stage warming up. Stagehands and techs zipped around in golf carts, hauling cables, lighting trusses, and crates of equipment. The entire site moved like clockwork… except when Feral Eclipse stepped onto the gravel lot.
They were immediately spotted by two young stage volunteers manning the load-in gate. Both were holding clipboards. Both dropped them.
“Ohmygodohmygod—” one whispered.
“THAT’S GABRIEL,” the other blurted, clutching her lanyard like a holy relic.
Gabriel blinked. “Hi?”
The first volunteer sprinted down the gravel path and vanished into a trailer, returning seconds later with four more crew members, all vibrating with suppressed screams. One of them nearly collapsed when Thane adjusted his sunglasses and nodded politely.
Mark sighed. “Here we go.”
Despite their best efforts to stay chill, the entire local load-in crew descended into a low-key fangasm. One girl started shaking when Cassie complimented her cargo pants. Rico had to take selfies with two dozen volunteers before he even touched a guitar. Jonah got pulled into a spontaneous air-drumming contest. Emily tried to help unload the merch bins but ended up signing someone’s cast with glitter pen.
Meanwhile, Thane and Mark made their way to the stage tech briefing, gear checklists in hand. At least that part went smoothly — the festival had sent their A-team to handle audio, rigging, and lighting, and they were sharp, prepared, and respectful as hell.
“Everything’s patched and prepped per your specs,” one of the senior audio techs confirmed. “We even ran a redundant line for your FOH just in case.”
Thane gave a rare grin. “I like you already.”
Back at the staging tent, Gabriel was doing his absolute best to behave — mostly. He’d only tried to sneak up the Pyramid Stage ramp once before being intercepted by a security guard who was clearly a fan but also clearly terrified of getting fired.
“Oh come on,” Gabriel pleaded, eyes wide. “I’ll just play like one riff —”
“Nope. Nope nope nope,” the guard said, grinning despite himself. “That stage is sacred until call time. You’ll touch it with purpose.”
Gabriel pouted. “Fine.”
He turned to find Thane watching him, arms crossed. “What?”
“I saw that,” Thane said flatly.
“Worth a shot,” Gabriel muttered.
By mid-afternoon, the full backline was in place. Lighting cues were locked. Sound checks were complete, clean, and powerful. The stage manager gave them the all-clear for green room setup, and the band retreated to a shaded tent beside the main stage — lined with plush couches, energy drinks, cold towels, and the occasional nervous intern with a clipboard.
“Guys,” Cassie said, peeking out the side flap. “You need to see this.”
They stepped outside.
Tens of thousands of fans were pouring into the fields like a tide of pure chaos — flags waving, shirts flying, bodies bouncing. Chants already broke through the air. Someone had a giant cardboard cutout of Gabriel’s head. Someone else had crafted a full furry werewolf costume with actual glowing claws.
“This is gonna be insane,” Jonah whispered.
Thane nodded, quietly checking his in-ear monitors again. Mark did the same.
Gabriel just stood there, wide-eyed, tail swishing. “We’re really here.”
“Yeah,” Thane said, clapping a hand on his bandmate’s shoulder. “We are.”
And in just a little while, they’d tear the soul out of this sacred field and offer it back to the sky.