Page 14 of Anchor

But when Poppy pointed her finger at the screen, I focused on it, and I saw.

It wasme,indeed. Me and my daggers, somewhere below Madame Weaver sitting on the threads, looking up. Just sitting there, waiting. Watching…Ghost Taland getting closer to the spider to lure her toward me.

My heart took another pause, this one longer. I sank my nails into my palms, and who cared if I was bleeding? I ordered my eyes not to blink as I watched the illusion of Taland, so perfectly executed, moving slowly to get closer to the spider, while the real one that had been by the tree then wasn’t visible in the video.

Then Ghost Taland came closer and turned his head.

It wasn’t Taland at all.

Wait, wait, hold on a minute, wait…

It was Taland—almost exactly Taland. The height of him, the leather jacket and the black pants. The way he held his arms. The way he moved, just like Taland (real Taland)—and his hair! His hair was exactly the same as Taland’s, longish and messy and all over the place and almost completely black.

But his face was different.

I brought both hands to my open mouth while I either laughed or cried—no idea, but my shoulders were shaking.

In the video, Ghost Taland wearing a different face lured the spider closer, and then I began to cut the threads with my daggers fast.

Madame Weaver fell a level lower.

The video ended.

“That wasso cool!” Poppy screeched. “Oh, my goddess, Rora—I can’t believe you did that! So, so cool!”

“The other,” I choked. “P-p-play the other video.”

Maybe I saw wrong. Maybe because that figure had been only Real Taland’s illusion magic, the face of it had been different.Maybe, maybe maybe…

Poppy clicked the fourth thumbnail.

The image of Night City filled the screen.

Goddess, the way my body reacted. The way my mind insisted that we were there again, even though I was fully aware that I was in my room at Madeline’s mansion. Even though I knew the Iris Roe was over, that I’d won—I still felt like I was thrust right into Night City again, and I was at the square, looking at a group of other players.

A group of residents, too.

It was that loop when the first player actually killed the elf with the bucket, in a way that it seemed like an accident and it actually counted as a natural death.

Again, my fingernails sank into my palms as I watched myself walking closer to the group. I remembered where I was coming from, too—Refiq’s Cloud Maker shop, where I paid him for a hailstorm. The halfling with the suit and the bowler hat whose mother was Iridian, who’d scared me shitless, but who’d also been my only hope.

I’d come right out of his shop when I’d heard the scream, and I’d gone closer to the narrow street at the end of the square tosee why the people had gathered. I’d seen the dead elf, and the Whitefire woman whispering her necromancy spell, getting her key, and running.

Then…Taland.

I saw him coming—he was right there. Tall, hair all over the place, black pants, black leather jacket, and most importantly, a green apple in his hands.

No idea if I made a sound or not, but I didn’t blink at all as I watched him smiling, biting his apple, his other hand in his pocket. His eyes on me.

I was looking at him, too, in the video. That’s where he told me that the game was about to get way bloodier now that the killing had started.

I remembered how he’d looked in that loop perfectly well.

I remembered—and it wasnotwhat this screen was showing.

The face—the same as that of his illusion in the Bluefire challenge. Taland but different, like he’d altered his features—eyes and nose and mouth, to appear like someone else. Someone…unrecognizable.

Laughter burst out of me—the fucker. He knew exactly what he was doing when he entered the Iris Roe. He knew exactly how to keep himself shielded, how to stay safe from the IDD, simply bynot looking like Taland.

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