The serpentine tendril, pulsing with sickly green light, tightened around Anya’s ankle, hauling her towards the balcony as if she were a puppet on invisible strings. Panic flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly eclipsed by steely resolve. Bogran didn't have time to lament his lack of dramatic entrance music; action was needed, and fast.

  He whipped out his enchanted tuning forks, not for the symphony he’d envisioned, but for a chaotic cacophony. He slammed them together, unleashing a discordant shriek that reverberated through the hall, bouncing off gilded walls and shattering the delicate air of aristocratic revelry. Musicians scrambled, patrons yelped, and waiters dropped trays laden with canapés in startled confusion. The Shepherd’s hypnotic hum faltered, momentarily disrupted by the sonic assault.

  Bogran seized the opportunity. With a guttural roar that would have made a tavern brawl blush, he charged towards the balcony, weaving through the panicked crowd like a drunken ferret on a sugar rush. He wasn't subtle; he was pure, unadulterated chaos incarnate.

  Reaching Anya, he grabbed her free hand, pulling with surprising strength for a man whose nose felt like it housed a burgeoning ecosystem of mucus. The Shepherd, eyes blazing with annoyance, unleashed a wave of raw power aimed at Bogran’s chest, but Anya, in a feat of unexpected agility, shoved him aside just as the blast hit. They both went sprawling, Anya landing on top of him, her emerald silk dress momentarily obscuring his view.

  "Bogran!" she gasped, a mixture of relief and exasperation in her voice. "What in Hades are you doing?"

  "Saving your snot-free existence, my dear," he mumbled back, scrambling to his feet with Anya clinging to his arm for dear life. The Shepherd loomed before them, radiating icy fury. "You interfere where you have no business, wizard," he growled, his voice laced with magic that crackled like static electricity.

  "Says the guy who kidnaps sorceresses in ball gowns," Bogran retorted, pulling Anya towards a side corridor, ignoring the Shepherd’s enraged bellow. They sprinted through a maze of service passages, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Behind them, the Shepherd roared into his communicator, "Lockdown! Seal all exits! No one leaves this Citadel!"

  They heard the metallic clang of shutters slamming shut echoing like a death knell in the narrow corridor. Above, the colossal crimson eye that served as the Shepherd’s watchful gaze pulsed with a malevolent red light before booming, its voice resonating through stone and flesh, "Order received. Lockdown confirmed. All unauthorized egress will be incinerated."

  Panic tightened its icy grip on Bogran's chest. This wasn't just another loop; this was it. His nasal cavity throbbed, a symphony of discomfort as the constellation of boogers nestled within pulsed with each desperate breath. Two loops left before his head would erupt like an overripe melon, and Anya... she needed him now more than ever.

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  They sprinted down labyrinthine service corridors, the stench of stale grease and burnt wiring clinging to the air. Ahead, on the escape route Bogran attempted to retrace, lay a closed shutter. He channeled chaos magic through his silver ring, focusing it into a concentrated blast aimed at the shutters barring their escape. But instead of dissolving, the metal absorbed the energy, the chaotic force simply dissipating across its surface. The shutter didn’t even vibrate. It remained impassive, mockingly impervious to his power.

  Bogran cursed, wiping sweat from his brow. "It’s shielded. Designed to absorb magical attacks."

  They ran, deeper into the maze of corridors, pursued by the Shepherd’s guards, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. They finally reached a small storage room, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the Citadel. A barred window offered a dizzying view of New Firenze, a sprawling tapestry of lights and shadows far below.

  Bogran sighed. "Nothing left to try on this loop but blast our way out and jump down, hoping we can reach the ground and break our fall with magic before Mr. Sky-Eye zaps us."

  Anya eyed his burgeoning nostril critically. "How many loops deep, Bogran? Judging by your overfull nose, you don't have many left."

  "Third for me," he croaked, his voice rasping, "Second rescue attempt. One hour in. Last time, the Shepherd killed us at the two hour mark right after I barged in." Anya knew all the loop mechanics, and knew Bogran couldn't lock a final loop unless they survived until the next day. But the rate at which Bogran's boogers increased in this interdimensionally-strained city had surprised them both.

  "Even if I link into your loop," Anya said, her voice strained, "I had no clean escape opportunities in the last hour." Her gaze was steady, assessing. "And you don't have enough loops left to pull off the direct approach."

  She pressed a finger against his nostril, a jolt of energy arcing between them. It felt like icy needles probing deep into his brain, then a rush of images flooding in—a blood-magic hologram of dozens of Trashborn bound and gagged, arranged on an altar within the Citadel, destined for a gruesome sacrifice. A map materialized, four ground-level entrances highlighted.

  "The Shepherd’s making a play tonight," Anya said, urgency lacing her voice, "Sacrificing a hundred Trashborn to open a dimensional gateway. Use the hologram to recruit the Trashborn to attack the Sky Citadel, lay low so as not to trigger the Shepherd's attack on me, and I'll escape amidst the chaos and meet you afterward."

  "Sounds like a plan. I can meet you at The Drunken Goblin. But where do I find the Trashborn?"

  Anya shook her head. "You'll have to figure that out yourself and fast; my only connections are Skyborn. You'll have less than two hours to get the attack started before the Shepherd zaps me. Good luck."

  The footsteps of the Shepherd's guards drew louder, nearer. Anya performed a delicate, almost painful maneuver, linking her blood magic into Bogran’s nostril. A jolt of energy surged through him, a potent connection forged between them. Anya's nostril suddenly bulged. "I’m linking myself into your loop. Our next loop plans are made. Time to blow and go."

  Bogran raised his silver ring, preparing to blow an exit in the Sky Citadel's side. He doubted they would survive the colossal crimson bugzapper on the way down this loop, but the plan for next loop was solid. His chaos magic shot forth.