number 4) with American Gods :3
4) a recurring dream, an old unread book, an heirloom
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It’s a stupid dream, and every time it leaves Shadow on edge.
The bone orchard. He knows it’s a dream, because there’s no way that a place like that could exist, but when his hands brush over the bleached-white bones as he crawls towards the summit, he almost thinks it might be real.
This time the dream is darkness, the bones familiar under him as he picks his way through with only the eerie blue glow of some unknown light source. The bones crunch and rattle under his feet, the only sound aside from his labored breathing.
The light grows as he begins picking his way through skeletal trees, until he’s standing in front of a tree that’s almost too bright to stare at directly. Unlike the others in the orchard, its branches hang heavy with green leaves, backlit in strange blue.
In front of the tree is a spear, and instinctively Shadow reaches for it, the weight familiar in his hands. He spins it experimentally once, though god knows he’s never held anything quite like it before in his life. It feels right though, hefty weight sparking something in his head and his chest that he can’t quite identify.
“It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” A voice says, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Shadow spins around, spear at the ready, but there’s nothing around but bones and trees.
“It’s just the beginning,” the voice continues, and Shadow turns back towards the tree, wondering for one ludicrous moment if maybe that’s what’s talking to him.
The tree doesn’t so much as stir, but Shadow sees a book at the base of its gnarled roots. He’s positive it wasn’t there a second ago, but dreams are weird like that, right?
With the spear still in his grasp, he walks towards the book, brushing its worn leather cover curiously. There doesn’t seem to be any identifiers, nothing that’ll tell him what the book is actually about, except for a deep imprint in a script Shadow can’t read.
He traces the shapes, all sharp points, and feels a chill down his spine, the voice seeming to whisper in his ear. “You’ll find out in due time, son.”
Shadow wakes up in a cold sweat, the imprint on the book still fresh in his mind, the weight of the spear lingering in his touch.