Once a simple cosplayer, devoted to embodying Chel from “The Road to El Dorado,” Jenna had become entwined in an adventure wrought with danger and betrayal.

Fiction cosplay, cosplayer, cosplayers, egirls, fiction, short story JC Milan March 15, 2025 0 Comments

Feet pounding against the packed earth, Jenna’s breath came in sharp bursts as she sprinted through the dense canopy of El Dorado’s fabled jungles. Her strapless top, a warm beige and red, shimmered against the vibrant green of the leaves, each movement a blur of color that seemed almost hypnotic. The high-cut white skirt flowed around her legs, allowing for fluidity and freedom, while her legs, toned from countless adventures, deftly navigated the underbrush beneath her.

Something dark loomed ahead, a shadow shifting among the trees. A chill wrapped around her, contrasting sharply with the humid air that enveloped her like a thick blanket. The turquoise jewelry that swayed against her skin, oversized earrings and ornate bracelets, now felt heavy with the weight of purpose. Legends whispered of treasures and dangers beyond her wildest imagination, and it was in that moment she felt their truth press down on her.

Once a simple cosplayer, devoted to embodying Chel from “The Road to El Dorado,” Jenna had become entwined in an adventure wrought with danger and betrayal. Those days of spirit and costume contests felt like a lifetime away, yet she still bore the same confidence that came with grace – framed in a sleek black bob that brushed against her cheek as she turned.

The jungle thickened and burst alive with sounds of the unseen. Vibrant hues flashed through the foliage, a stark contrast to the tension rising inside her. Her heart thudded in rhythm with the drums echoing from somewhere deep within the wild. And then she heard the words that drove her forward, the flickering thoughts of her friends urging her on: “We need you, Jenna. The treasure isn’t just wealth; it’s hope for our future!”

A sudden rustle interrupted her thoughts, and without a second to lose, she ducked behind a massive tree trunk, her pulse pounding wildly in her ears. As she peered around the bark, she spotted a figure, cloaked and ominous, moving toward the abandoned ruins she had spent countless nights studying. It was not just the myth of El Dorado that beckoned her; it was the potential to change their world, one that had become bleak and unforgiving.

As she watched, she recalled the night before her departure when her friend Marcus had sent a message:

Marcus: “Get ready. Some seriously dark stuff is going down. We’re counting on you!”

Jenna, focused back in the now, had felt the electric weight of responsibility at that moment. She was no longer just dressed up for conventions; this was real.

Steeling herself, she honed in on the figure as it shifted through the treetops, revealing the stark outline of a mercenary, hunting for the same treasure. The distinction marked by the weapons strapped to his back glinted in the dim light. She had scouted these woods enough to know the ancient paths that led to the legendary gold – and to the dark secrets nestled within it.

With calculated steps, she maneuvered around the thick roots and foliage, inching closer, fingers dancing over her turquoise jewels, perhaps seeking comfort in their familiar weight. The thrill of the chase coursed through her, igniting her spirit. She thought of Chel, who, more than anything, fought against oppression with wit and charm. Perhaps she could do the same.

The ruins loomed larger, vines creeping up ancient stone, each fragment steeped in whispers of betrayal from ages past. Shapes began to materialize among the broken columns, shadows stirred by the light of torches. Jenna’s breath steadied, aligning with purpose. This was it; she was here at the precipice of myth and reality.

But before she could step into the clearing, a new sound gripped her attention, breaking the tension of anticipation: a sharp scream echoed through the night, followed by a burst of gunfire. Her instincts kicked in, propelling her forward, and then, without conscious thought, her fingers flexed, gripping a solid branch. It became her makeshift weapon as she burst into the clearing.

In the chaos, she spotted Marcus wrestling with the mercenary. Their eyes met amidst the struggle, and she realized this fight was not just theirs. They were fighting for a future, their friends, and for those weighed down by a world scarred by greed and corruption.

Jenna lunged, shouting, “Get away from him!” Her voice, fierce and unyielding, reverberated over the sounds of the battle. She swung the branch, catching the mercenary by surprise. With the leverage of adrenaline, he stumbled back, momentarily stunned, and she seized the opportunity to pull Marcus away from the edge of peril.

“Quick! There’s an exit through the archway!” she urged, their focus converging on the archway, framed by cascading vines and shadows that danced like spirits under moonlight. They dashed forward, laughter breaking the tension between them momentarily amidst still racing hearts.

As they made their escape, the ruins now behind them, Jenna felt a shift within. It was no longer just a tale of finding treasure; it was about reclaiming hope in a world that desperately needed it. In that moment of unity, surrounded by lush green foliage and the golden glow of the setting sun, she rediscovered her bond with friends, her purpose, and the spirit of Chel living on through her.