Agamemnon's Dowery

Chapter 1

Summer rays filtered into Agamemnon's room, casting long, warm fingers of light through the cracks in his blackout curtains. The usual cacophony of New York City was muffled but ever-present, a distant hum that nearly lulled him back into sleep. He was on the verge of drifting off again when a familiar, sharp voice sliced through the drowsiness.

"Aggy! It's time to get your ass up!" Nala's voice echoed through the apartment, getting louder as she made her way up the creaky old stairs. The muffled sound of Soca music trailed behind her, gradually increasing in volume. Agamemnon groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head in a futile attempt to escape the inevitable.

"I already know, I'm already late, so I might as well take my time," he muttered, his voice raspy with sleep.

Before he could settle back down into the comfort of his bed, the door to his room flew off its hinges with a thunderous bang. Agamemnon shot up like a daisy, heart pounding, to see his sister standing in the doorway. She was wearing her favorite cropped Machel Montano shirt and a pair of well-worn ripped blue jeans. A massive, retro-style Bluetooth JBL speaker rested on her shoulder, blasting Soca music loud enough to rattle the windows of their small New York city apartment.

"Nala, what the actual fuck?" Agamemnon grumbled, half-annoyed, half-amused as his sister danced her way into the room. She moved in perfect rhythm to the music, her steps causing the old wooden floor to creak in a loud protest.

Nala grinned and set the speaker down before plopping herself beside him on the bed. "Look, bro, I know it's hard to fit in, but skipping school isn't going to make things better," she said, her tone gentle but firm. There was a depth of concern in her eyes that only someone who had shouldered far too many burdens at a young age could carry.

Agamemnon let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, but it might help me avoid getting my ass whooped—or blasted with a fireball," he quipped, trying to mask his anxiety with humor.

Nala punched him lightly in the arm. "You know that's not what I meant," she said, laughing softly. The sound was warm, a reminder of better times when life wasn't so hard.

The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, the city's distant sounds filling the quiet gaps in their conversation. Agamemnon's gaze drifted to the worn floorboards beneath his feet, his mind wandering to the daily struggles he faced. Fifty years had passed since the portal had opened, bringing forth a torrent of magical and mythical beings, but the societal upheaval that followed was still painfully raw. As one of the few ordinary humans left in a world now teeming with magic-wielders, demigods, and fantastical creatures, he often felt like a fish out of water—weak and vulnerable.

"Do you think things will ever get easier?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might shatter any hope.

Nala sighed, her expression softening. She looked at her younger brother, her heart aching for him. "I don't know, Aggy," she admitted. "But we can't let fear or bullying control our lives. We have to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it gets."

Agamemnon nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as he tried to absorb her words. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... hard, you know?"

"I know," Nala said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "But you're stronger than you think. We both are."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Agamemnon's mouth. "Thanks, sis."

"Anytime, little bro," she replied, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Now, get dressed. You don't want to miss breakfast—I made your favorite."