After a whirlwind week on tour, the group finally returned home, weary but satisfied. The van came to a stop in front of Johnny and Vitani’s place, where everyone would crash for a bit before heading to their own homes. As the doors swung open, the tired band members staggered out, groaning in relief to be off the road.
Johnny stretched his arms over his head, a tired grin on his face. “Home sweet home,” he muttered as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
Michael Monroe, always energetic on stage but now visibly drained, clapped his friend on the back. “I need a bed, a shower, and maybe a year of sleep,” he joked, dragging his feet toward the front door.
Behind them, Stiv Bators and the rest of The Lords of the New Church filed out of their own van, equally exhausted but buzzing from the success of the last few shows. Stiv shot a glance at his daughter Luna, who was practically bouncing out of the van, looking anything but tired.
Luna was already pulling out her notebook, scribbling ideas as she walked up the steps to the house. Her head was spinning with inspiration from the tour—new concepts, sounds, and visuals she wanted to explore for Bloodless Phantoms’ next album. She was still riding the high of the last few shows, and her mind was buzzing with possibilities.
“Luna,” Johnny called after her as she disappeared inside the house, “aren’t you tired at all?”
Luna popped her head back out, grinning. “Tired? No way! I’ve got so many ideas—I need to get them down before I lose them!”
Vitani smiled, shaking her head as she stood on the porch. “You’re just like your father, Luna. Always thinking of the next big thing.”
Inside, everyone began to settle in, crashing on couches and beds wherever they could find space. Rebel flopped onto the living room couch, groaning in exhaustion, while Haden and Jimi from Luna’s band sprawled out in sleeping bags nearby. Even Claire and Adrian had joined in, visiting after Michael’s return, catching up after a long tour. But Luna? She wasn’t slowing down.
She tucked herself into a corner of the room, headphones on, flipping through her notebook. The notes were already filling up—concepts for album art, song titles, and cryptic visuals for Bloodless Phantoms' fourth album. The tour had given her so much fuel. The new album was taking shape in her head, and it was darker, heavier, and more ambitious than anything they’d done before.
She jotted down a working title: Lost Souls. The songs were coming to her in waves, each one building on the themes from Immortal Souls. But this time, she wanted to dive even deeper—exploring themes of isolation, rebellion, and the search for meaning in a chaotic world. She scribbled down a few song titles:
“The Night Between Worlds”
“In the Depths of Time”
“Echoes of the Past”
“No One Left to Hear”
“Fading in the Dark”
She envisioned more elaborate stage designs, drawing on what she’d learned from watching her dad and The Lords of the New Church. Shadows, fog, and surreal visuals that played with the audience’s perception—she wanted to create an immersive experience that felt like stepping into a different dimension.
As she worked, Michael wandered over, a cup of coffee in hand despite the late hour. “Already planning the next album, huh?” he asked, taking a seat next to her.
Luna nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve got so many ideas—it’s all just coming together.”
Michael smiled, watching his stepdaughter’s passion overflow. “That’s what makes you great, Luna. You never stop. But remember to take care of yourself, too. It’s easy to burn out.”
“I know,” she said, looking up briefly, “but I’m in the zone. I don’t want to lose this momentum.”
Johnny, overhearing from the kitchen, chuckled as he poured himself a drink. “She gets it from me,” he said to Vitani. “Once the music takes over, there’s no stopping her.”
Vitani smiled softly, placing a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “It’s in her blood.”
Stiv strolled in, a mischievous grin on his face. “What’s this I hear about new album ideas? Already?” He glanced at Luna’s notebook, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like someone’s on a roll.”
Luna grinned. “I’ve been inspired. I’m thinking darker, more immersive, even more cryptic than the last album.”
Stiv nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s the way to do it. Keep pushing the envelope, keep your audience guessing. You’ve got the talent for it.”
Johnny came over, leaning against the doorway. “You’ve got a vision, Luna. Whatever you come up with, it’s going to be something special.”
As the night wore on, Luna continued to scribble down notes, even as the rest of the house fell quiet. One by one, her bandmates and family drifted off to sleep, but Luna remained wide awake, lost in her creative process. She could already hear the melodies, the pounding drums, the haunting lyrics echoing in her mind.
By the time dawn began to break through the windows, Luna had filled several pages with ideas for Lost Souls. She smiled to herself, knowing that this album was going to be their most ambitious project yet. The exhaustion from the tour hadn’t even touched her, and she felt more alive than ever.
As the rest of the house slept, Luna sat in the stillness of the early morning, her notebook open, the future of Bloodless Phantoms unfolding before her eyes.
