Free Death Weavers by Brandon Mull

you can sneak in some rest.”
    â€œBut I should be there,” Mira said.
    â€œSitting outside a cave alone?” Joe asked. “Not on my watch. You’re too valuable.”
    Mira stared at him.
    â€œWhat?” Joe finally asked.
    â€œI’m trying to decide whether you mean valuable or incompetent,” Mira said.
    â€œThe revolution depends on you girls,” Joe said. “The Unseen tasked me with keeping you safe. I’m doing my best.”
    Mira gave a single nod. “Cole? Hunter? You up for it?”
    â€œIt would be a shame to waste the day,” Hunter said.
    Cole mustered his most confident tone. “Let’s go caving.”
    *  *  *
    The nondescript cave opening looked like a little cleft in the rocks that probably went back no more than fifteen feet. Given the reputation of the Cave of Memory, Cole had pictured something more grand—yawning darkness fanged with stalactites.
    â€œThink that’s it?” Cole asked.
    â€œJoe pointed out the trail and told us to go left at the fork,” Hunter said. “Looks like the trail ends here.”
    The leather saddle shifted slightly and creaked as Cole dismounted. The ride from Rincomere had only taken a couple of hours. Staring at the unassuming gap in the mountainside, Cole patted his horse.
    A sound from a stand of trees off to one side made Cole turn abruptly. He could make out a vague shape in the trees.
    Nudging his horse to a trot, Hunter rode that way. “It’s a horse,” he soon called. “Wait. Two horses. I don’t see riders. They must be in the cave.”
    â€œEnforcers?” Cole asked.
    â€œDoesn’t look like their kind of mounts,” Hunter replied, turning his horse to ride back to Cole.
    â€œGreat,” Cole said. “I’ll have actual people to worry about in there as well.”
    â€œIt’s a little surprising,” Hunter said, swinging down from his horse.
    â€œWhy? Don’t lots of people know about the cave?”
    â€œSure, but they stay away because of the curse.”
    Cole stared at his brother. “ Now I hear about a curse?”
    Hunter shrugged. “You already know the basics. Whoever goes in leaves an imprint. Think about the downside. People can figure out you went there. By speaking with your imprint, strangers can find out about you and potentially use the info against you. And bad people have gone inside. You can meet some serious evil in the Cave of Memory. Most people in Necronum have decided the place is bad luck.”
    â€œBut nobody can touch me,” Cole checked.
    â€œNot physically,” Hunter said. “You won’t get punched or stabbed, unless real people do it. But bad imprints could mess with your head. Watch out.”
    Cole took a deep breath. Except for meeting live people inside, Cole had thought through these dangers. “I might as well get going.”
    â€œI’ll be waiting,” Hunter said.
    Shielding his eyes, Cole glanced toward the sun. It wasn’t high enough to be noon yet.
    Leaving his horse with Hunter, Cole walked to the gap in the rocks. Cool air wafted out. He had to crouch a little to proceed. The way curved, narrowing somewhat, and looked like it probably stopped just out of sight. But as he crept forward, the opposite happened. The tunnel widened, opening into a vast chamber, the air cool enough that Cole wished he had a jacket. Cole could see where four different tunnels branched out from the large chamber, each lit by a different color—red, blue, green, and purple.
    A woman stood on the near side of the chamber. She was heavyset and in her fifties, with short black hair and a long brown fur coat. She held up a hand. “Halt. Do you know where you are?”
    â€œThe Cave of Memory,” Cole said, holding still.
    The woman gave a nod. “All who enter leave behind a permanent impression of themselves. If you come any farther, you will do the