The wind howled across the jagged cliffs of Skye Ridge, where the ocean below roared and crashed like the world was breaking apart. The air smelled of sea salt and earth, and the pale sun, sagging behind a curtain of clouds, painted the scene in hues of grey and silver. Perched atop the cliff, a lone woman stood, her silhouette fractured against the cold, churning waves. Her jet-black leather armor looked striking against the harsh backdrop—a magnificent, hand-crafted blend of Norse-inspired shoulder pauldrons and intricate breastplates, complete with soft feathers trailing off her cape like dark storm clouds unspooling behind her.
Ellis Novak adjusted the silver helmet resting on her head, its horns curling heavenward like dying tree branches. Her red hair, woven with metallic accents, spilled over her shoulders as the wind caught strands and carried them aloft. Her presence bespoke a fierce warrior, but close up, her amber eyes carried the weight of someone far more mortal, someone worn thin by battles not of swords and shields, but of the soul.
Behind her, in stark contrast to the ancient cliffs, loomed the steel-and-silver cityscape of New Vardalis. Its towers scraped the sky, their reflective surfaces kissed by fleeting sunlight. Aircars zipped between landing docks, their hums faint beneath the ambient wrath of nature. Despite its futuristic grandeur, the city couldn’t conceal its rot—a rising tide of inequality, dissent, and silent despair masked by polished exteriors.
Ellis glanced at the city before her, then back at the abyss below. Her heart trembled in a rhythm she almost didn’t recognize. All of this—the costume, the Valkyrie persona, the escape to the cliffs—was supposed to help. This was supposed to drown out the static in her mind.
The Invitation
A month ago, she’d been Sarah Novak, an unremarkable marketing assistant barely noticed in her sleek corporate office, wearing neutral tones that blurred her into the background of an indifferent crowd. She had always been invisible, even to herself, until the day her therapist gently slid a flier across the desk.
“Cosplay and Fandom Expo 2098: Where Legends are Forged.”
“Ever tried being someone else?” her therapist had asked, her kind eyes betraying no judgment. “Just for a little while? It might help.”
Sarah didn’t think much of the suggestion at first, but something stirred in her that night—an uneasy yearning to feel… significant. For once, she wanted to command a room when she walked into it. Not out of arrogance, but out of sheer desperation to escape the vacuum of anonymity that had swallowed her whole. She signed up for the expo, spending weeks pouring her soul into creating her costume: the Valkyrie, a spirit destined to guide fallen warriors to their final resting place. There was something poetic and dangerous about it.
Revelation
But now, here on this cliff in full regalia, her heart racing against the backdrop of roaring waves and distant thunder, she wondered if she had miscalculated. Had she merely run too far into the arms of fantasy to escape herself? Her communicator buzzed in her leather gauntlet, shattering the moment. She cursed under her breath, flipping it open to see a floating holographic message.
[Hannah]: Hey, where are you? The afterparty’s in full swing. You good?
Ellis stared at the message for a long time before responding.
[Ellis]: I needed some air. I’ll be fine.
[Hannah]: We miss you. You’re kinda the highlight of this thing. Everyone’s still talking about that performance you gave at the masquerade stage.
Ellis hesitated. At the expo’s climax last night, she had, for the first time in her life, felt alive. The lights, the roaring crowd, the way people cheered as she struck her final pose atop the main podium—it was intoxicating. She had never been cheered for, never truly seen. As Ellis hung up, her reflection stared back at her in the communicator’s dimmed surface. The Valkyrie was someone who mattered. But Sarah?
The Fall
“Who are you?” she whispered aloud, the question swallowed immediately by the wind. She turned and almost slipped, her boots catching on the uneven stone. Images flickered in her mind: her unassuming desk, her therapist’s patient smile, her parents’ empty dining room chairs. Would they notice if she didn’t return to any of these places?
A sound broke through her thoughts. The soft shuffle of boots approaching on the stone path behind her. Startled, Ellis spun around, her cape flaring. A man stood there, his frame tall but unassuming under a rain-slick cloak. His face was mostly shadowed by the hood, though a faint outline of scruff hinted at weariness. “That’s quite a drop,” he said simply.
“What… who are you?” Ellis demanded. She dropped into the Valkyrie’s stoic stance, the act second nature by this point.
He chuckled softly, pulling back his hood to reveal sharp cheekbones and dark, stormy eyes. “I’m just someone who recognized a little too much of themselves in the way you’re standing there.” He gestured toward the cliff’s edge.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Ellis said curtly, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty.
“Neither are you,” he replied. There was no judgment, only understanding. “But here we are.”
The Leap
For a long moment, the two stood in silence, the wind pressing against them. Finally, it was Ellis who broke it. “I thought… maybe if I became her—if I became something bigger, bolder—it would fill the gaps. Fix me.” She tore off her helmet and stared at it, her true reflection finally laid bare. “It hasn’t worked.”
His expression softened. “Sometimes the mask isn’t meant to fix you. Sometimes it’s meant to show you what’s already inside.”
The words settled deep in her chest, heavy and unfamiliar. “And if I can’t find that in me?”
“Then maybe,” he said quietly, stepping forward, “you find someone to remind you.”
The words hung between them like a fragile breath before the wind carried them away. Ellis felt the weight of her armor more acutely than ever, yet she didn’t feel trapped. For the first time, she felt like Sarah and the Valkyrie weren’t separate beings after all.
“The expo ends tomorrow. Everyone’s packing up,” he said finally, nodding toward the city. “But sometimes beginnings hide there too.”
She smiled faintly, stepping back from the precipice, the ocean’s roar retreating behind her. “Maybe it’s time I found out what’s under the mask.”
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Is cosplay a coping mechanism?
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