DARK WIZARD

3

As Gabriel stood before the old three-story building dating back to the early twentieth century, he paused for a moment, facing the dilapidated facade. With a mixture of fear, doubt, and hope for a better future, he regarded what would be his new home.

It was Mrs. Zara's boarding house, an Italian immigrant in her mid-sixties who had never married but had two children, the product of one of her relationships with a former lodger back in her youth.

A week after his arrival, Mrs. Zara surprised him by announcing the arrival of a package. The surprise stemmed from the fact that he hadn't told anyone his address. Yet there it was, a small box with no sender. He climbed up to the third floor, where his room was located. Sitting on the bed, he tore open the wrapping. Inside was a moderately-sized book of about four hundred and fifty pages: "The Silmarillion" read the title; there was a handwritten note:

"Dear Gabriel,

I'm sending you this gift because I know of your fondness for fantasy works, especially those of Tolkien. I'm glad my previous shipments pleased you (or at least I assume so).

I understand that receiving anonymous deliveries from a stranger over the years may cause you some surprise, and even annoyance, but there's a reason for it. Soon we will meet (although you have already seen me before).

Warm regards,

Don Anselmo

P.S. The friend of J.V."

It was the first time a letter had arrived signed; before, they only stated: "the friend of J.V." Every time he read those initials, a smile spread across his face, remembering the conversation with Ana, the cook at the orphanage, and her "Jotave." What this last letter said was true; while he loved the books, he was bothered by the mysterious nature of the sender, and no matter how much he pondered who the initials could refer to, he came up with nothing. Some time ago, at the orphanage, he had taken the time to think about all the people he knew, and he had written down their names on a piece of paper. The list mostly consisted of people from the orphanage and some he had met when his parents were still alive, but none of the names matched the initials J.V. This only intrigued him more and gave him an extra reason to be annoyed.

That "soon we will meet" had not come when Gabriel turned twenty-four. He worked during the day at the offices of a supermarket performing administrative tasks and banking procedures, filing endless files. At first, he liked it because he wasn't trapped within four walls, but soon he found himself caught in something bigger: endless bureaucracy, endless lines, dealing with the municipality, taxes, and so on. Rushing frantically from one place to another, he witnessed the indifference of the employees and the bad mood of the people; the suffering of the elderly waiting for long hours on their feet to collect a meager pension; the insults of the drivers stuck in traffic. In short: generalized chaos.

He felt disappointed. Life was bewildering. The news reflected the constant global turmoil, the continuous conflicts, mankind's self-destruction due to its unchecked ambition. Millions of people died of hunger, thousands in wars, millions more from diseases. The world rushed recklessly along a narrow ledge, and on both sides, only destruction and death loomed. At this rate, humanity was headed for certain destruction despite technological advances. He felt a great emptiness in his soul, unable to comprehend seeing all of this; he felt like a tiny being who could do nothing to change it; an insignificant being; just another number within that chaotic design. But one day, everything changed. When he turned twenty-six, he finally met Don Anselmo.