Ashes of Eternity

Awakening in White

I don't remember exactly when it all started, but I'm Narinder, 26 years old, just an average woman trying to make sense of life.

Let's rewind a bit. Back to where it all began—with the one piece of my past that has always stayed with me: my name, Narinder. It's a peculiar name, isn't it? It feels old, almost as if it's from another time or another place. I've never met anyone else with the same name, not in the many schools I attended or the different cities I've lived in. Yet, for some reason, I've clung to it like a lifeline. It's the only thing that connects me to a past that's mostly a blur.

Growing up, people often asked me about my name. "Where does it come from?" they'd ask or "What does it mean ?" with curiosity. I never had answers. All I knew was that my parents—whom I never met—had given it to me. I always had this inexplicable connection to it, like there's a hidden story behind it, something heavy and ancient that I can't quite grasp.

Aside from that enigma, my life has been fairly routine. At eighteen, I left the orphanage—a place that, despite its bleakness, had been my only home. I began piecing together a life, fragment by fragment. I worked hard in school, driven by  the desire to make something of myself or just the sheer will to survive in a world that had never handed me anything. Either way, I graduated with top marks, which even surprised me. I landed a decent job at a reputable company, one of those large, faceless corporations where people come and go without anyone really noticing.

The pay was good—enough to afford a nice apartment in the city and the occasional splurge. You could say I was living the dream, at least the one I had envisioned for myself when I was younger. But despite the outward appearance of success, there was always something gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, something preventing me from ever feeling truly content with my life.

One of those splurges was a video game—a game recommended by a coworker that turned out to be far more than just a pastime. It was one of those lunch breaks when you're just trying to get through the day that my coworker—let's call him Tom—leaned over with a casual grin.

"Hey, Narinder," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich, "you should check out this game, Cult of the Lamb. It's got this cool, dark vibe. And, weirdly enough, there's a character in it with your name."

That caught my attention. How often do you find a video game character with your exact name? Especially one as uncommon as mine. So that evening, after I got home and kicked off my shoes, I sat down on my couch, phone in hand, and bought the game. I wasn't sure what to expect—maybe just something to distract me from the monotony of everyday life. But the moment I started playing, I was hooked.

The game was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. It was dark, mysterious, and strangely unsettling, yet captivating. It resonated with me in a way I couldn't explain, as if something deep inside recognized it. As I guided the little lamb through the eerie world—filled with ominous forests, ancient temples, and grotesque creatures—I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been here before. The world felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream. It felt like I've seen it before.

And maybe I had. For over a year, long before I even knew this game existed, I'd been plagued by nightmares—vivid, relentless dreams full of strange rituals, talking animals, blood, and myself in chains that dig into my skin. The most haunting figure in these dreams was a twisted image of a lamb, its eyes dark and infinite, speaking to me in a language I didn't understand but felt like I should. The nightmares were so intense that sleep became a dreaded experience. I tried therapy, medication—anything to help—but nothing worked. Eventually, I just gave up and accepted them as a part of my life.

When I first played Cult of the Lamb, I was shocked by how closely it mirrored my nightmares. The world, the characters—everything felt eerily familiar, like the game had pulled scenes straight from my dreams. I began to wonder if I'd seen something about the game before, and my mind had twisted it into those terrifying dreams that tortured me. But there was no proof, just a gut feeling I had.