The throat of the Titan was not a smooth chute. It was a vertical labyrinth of hydraulic struts, braided cables thick as redwood trees, and massive, grooved gears that served as platforms for their descent.
Julian swung from a hanging chain, his boots finding purchase on the rim of a piston housing. The air here was surprisingly warm and smelled of ozone and petrichor—like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle.
"Watch the grease," Lyra called from below. She was rappelling down a bundle of fiber-optic nerves. "It's slicker than ice."
"I see it," Julian grunted, sliding down to join her on a wide, rusted gangway.
They were inside the Forearm Assembly.
The space was colossal. The walls of the Titan's interior curved away into the darkness, lined with ribs of black iron. But what took Julian's breath away wasn't the machinery. It was what was growing on it.
"It's... a forest," Julian whispered.
It wasn't made of wood and chlorophyll. It was a Clockwork Ecosystem.
Sprouting from the metal floor were trees made of twisted copper wire, their "leaves" thin sheets of solar foil that rustled with a metallic tink-tink in the draft. Vines made of rubber tubing wrapped around the support pillars, pulsing with a faint, green bioluminescence.
"Life finds a way," Lyra murmured, stepping carefully over a patch of moss. But when she looked closer, the moss was made of millions of tiny, magnetized iron filings, standing upright and swaying in the magnetic currents.
"It's biomimicry," Julian said, kneeling to examine a "flower." The petals were made of polished glass, and the center was a tiny, glowing vacuum tube. "The Titan's repair systems... over centuries, they evolved. They started imitating the shapes of life to maximize efficiency."
Bzzzt.
A creature fluttered past Julian's face. It looked like a dragonfly, but its wings were mica shards and its body was a spark plug. It hovered for a second, its tiny camera-eyes scanning him, before darting away into the copper canopy.
"Don't touch anything," Lyra warned, her hand on her weapon. "In a normal jungle, things eat you. Here, they probably disassemble you."
They moved deeper into the Copper Jungle. The silence of the Wasteland was gone, replaced by a symphony of clicks, whirs, and hums. It was peaceful, in an alien way.
"So," Lyra said, hacking through a curtain of hanging wires with her knife. "Brother Cadence said the Heart is in the chest. We're in the arm. That means we have to cross the Elbow Joint, the Shoulder, and then descend into the Thorax."
"Sounds like an anatomy lesson from hell," Julian muttered.
He checked his ring. It was cold, vibrating softly. Even dampened, he could feel the immense power dormant in the walls around him. This wasn't just a machine; it was a dormant god.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them shook.
THUD-THUD.
"Is the Titan waking up?" Lyra froze.
"No," Julian listened. "That's rhythmic. Something is walking."
They crouched behind a thicket of lead pipes.
Through the gaps in the metal foliage, they saw it.
A Scavenger-Beast. But not a biological one. It was a machine, quadrupedal, moving with the heavy grace of a gorilla. Its body was a patchwork of scavenged armor plates, and its head was a massive, rotating grinder jaw.
It wasn't hunting them. It was grazing.
It walked up to a "tree" of copper wire. Its grinder jaw spun up—WHIRRR—and it bit into the metal trunk. Sparks flew as it chewed through the copper, swallowing the metal.
"A Harvester," Julian whispered. "It eats the raw materials to recycle them."
"It's huge," Lyra noted. "If it sees us, we're scrap."
"We need to go around," Julian pointed to a maintenance ladder leading up to a higher catwalk. "Up there. Above the canopy."
They moved silently. Julian was careful not to let his crystal hand bump against anything; even dampened, a resonance spike might attract the Harvester.
They reached the ladder. Lyra went first, climbing agilely. Julian followed.
He was halfway up when his boot slipped on a patch of oil.
CLANG.
His foot kicked the metal railing. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot.
Below them, the Harvester stopped chewing. Its head snapped around. The grinder jaw slowed to a menacing idle. A red sensor light on its forehead swept the area.
"Freeze," Lyra hissed from above.
The sensor beam passed over the ladder. It stopped on Julian.
Target: Contaminant, a synthesized voice barked from the beast.
The Harvester roared—a blast of steam—and charged the ladder. It didn't climb. It rammed the support pillar.
CRASH.
The ladder shook violently. Julian nearly lost his grip.
"Climb!" Lyra screamed, reaching down for him.
The Harvester reared back and struck the pillar again. Metal groaned. rivets popped. The ladder began to detach from the wall, leaning dangerously backward over the drop.
Julian scrambled up, his heart hammering. He lunged for the catwalk railing. Lyra grabbed his wrist—his human wrist—and hauled him up just as the ladder gave way completely, crashing down onto the Harvester below.
The beast shook off the debris and looked up, its grinder jaw spinning furiously. It couldn't reach them.
"Go!" Lyra pulled him along the catwalk. "Before it finds a ramp!"
They sprinted along the high walkway, leaving the Copper Jungle behind. The air grew cooler, the "vegetation" thinning out until they stood before a massive circular bulkhead door.
It was etched with the symbol of the Black-Iron: a hammer striking a tuning fork.
"The Elbow Joint," Julian panted. "This door leads to the upper arm."
He looked at the locking mechanism. It wasn't a keyhole. It was a musical scale. Five hollow tubes of different lengths protruded from the door.
"A tone lock," Julian realized. "It needs a specific chord to open."
"Can you pick it?" Lyra asked.
"I can't pick it," Julian said, looking at his ring. "I have to sing it."
He looked at Lyra. "I have to take the ring off."
"Julian, no. The Fog might still be lingering in your head."
"We don't have a choice. The Harvester is coming." They could hear the heavy thud-thud of the beast finding a way up.
Julian took a deep breath. He gripped the Black-Iron ring.
"Cover your ears," he said.
He pulled the ring off.
BOOM.
The world rushed back in. The silence vanished. Julian gasped as the sensory overload hit him. He could hear the electrons flowing in the walls. He could hear the fluid in Lyra's inner ear.
He focused on the door. He listened to the hollow tubes. He sensed the air pressure inside them.
A minor. C sharp. E flat.
He raised his crystal hand. It blazed with blinding blue light, illuminating the dark bulkhead.
He didn't touch the tubes. He struck the air in front of them with his fingers, like playing an invisible harp.
Hummm. Vrrrm. Ziiiing.
He sent three distinct frequencies into the tubes simultaneously.
The door resonated. The dust on its surface danced in geometric patterns.
Click-CHUNK.
The massive bolts retracted. The door groaned open, revealing a dark, inclined tunnel leading upward.
"It's open!" Julian shouted, shoving the ring back onto his finger. He collapsed against the frame, sweat pouring down his face. The brief exposure had felt like staring into the sun.
"You okay?" Lyra helped him up.
"Loud," Julian wheezed. "It's so loud."
ROAR.
Behind them, the Harvester crested the ramp, its grinder jaw hungry for metal.
"Inside! Now!"
They dove through the bulkhead. Lyra slammed the manual seal button. The heavy door swung shut just as the Harvester struck it.
BANG.
They were safe.
Julian lay on the floor of the tunnel, staring up at the ceiling.
"We're in the Upper Arm," he whispered. "Next stop... the Shoulder. And then the Heart."
Lyra checked her ammo. "Let's hope the heart doesn't have teeth."