00:12:07 until next jump.
They spilled out of the maintenance hatch and landed on a grill-plated floor vibrating like a dying heart. The air stank of scorched copper and hot oil. Overhead, conveyor belts carried glowing red ingots— not steel, but congealed bloodlight, translucent and pulsing. Every ingot bore a stamped number: the remaining lifespan of the donor.
A rail-thin woman in soot-black overalls stepped from the steam, her goggles reflecting Cass's aged face. A welding torch hung from her hip like a sidearm.
"Name?" she demanded.
Cass straightened. "Engineer Calder. We need safe passage."
The woman's gaze flicked to the timer on the wall— same red digits ticking down from 00:12:05. "Passage costs blood or years. Forge decides which."
Behind her, the car stretched three football fields. Hydraulic presses slammed down in slow motion, shaping crimson metal into gears the size of truck tires. Each gear, once finished, exhaled a ribbon of steam that spelled something—a name, a memory, a final word—before vanishing into the furnace.
Mara whispered, "This place prints the train's replacement parts. If we shut it down—"
"—the train derails in six jumps," the woman finished. "I'm Warden Korr. Choose fast."
Cass's Core pinged:
> SCAN COMPLETE – BIOFORGE COMPATIBLE.
SYNTHESIS TIME: 11 MINUTES.
COST: 6 MONTHS LIFESPAN OR 400 ML BLOOD.
Whisper tugged his sleeve, held up her crayon drawing: a stick-figure Cass hooked to tubes that drain him white.
He exhaled. "I'll pay lifespan. But I want a weapon and safe escort to the coupling door."
Korr smiled without warmth. "Forge always collects."
00:11:30.
A mechanical arm descended, syringe-tipped, and pierced the vein inside Cass's elbow. The plunger moved. The timer on the wall jumped forward three seconds— the forge drinking time directly from his heart. His reflection in a polished piston aged another decade in as many heartbeats.
The arm retracted, leaving behind a coiled whip of bloodlight— translucent scarlet, humming like a tuning fork. Etched along its length: 00:11:27… 00:11:26… It was a living countdown to its own expiry.
Korr snapped her fingers. A gear-face golem stomped forward, joints dripping molten seconds. "B-7 will escort you. Keep the whip above heart level or it'll drink you dry."
The coupling door lay at the far end, past rivers of white-hot metal and conveyor belts that moved like conveyor sharks. As they walked, the golem's footsteps left puddles of liquid time that dissolved the floor tiles behind them. No turning back.
Halfway, Mara stumbled. A stray ingot rolled against her boot— stamped "MARA VALE – 17 YEARS". She recoiled. "I never donated—"
Korr's voice drifted over the machinery. "Forge forecasts futures. The metal shapes what will be."
Cass tightened his grip on the whip. "Then let's change the forecast."
00:09:48.
They reached the door. A slot beside it glowed crimson, demanding payment. The whip's timer showed 00:09:45. Exactly the time remaining until jump. Coincidence was a luxury the Blood-Forge didn't offer.
Cass fed the whip into the slot. It dissolved into red mist. The door irised open onto a ladder leading up into strobe-lit darkness.
As he climbed, the last thing he heard was Korr's voice, almost tender:
"Next time, Engineer, bring a bigger heart. The Forge is always hungry."
00:09:42… 00:09:41…
The hatch sealed behind them, leaving only the metallic taste of borrowed years on his tongue.