Gaspar

Gaspar is the little wizard of signs, the one who answers when someone says 'send me a sign.' The request travels the way those things travel and reaches his grey beard, which catches them like a fishing net. Then he consults the amethyst of his staff, which shows him which sign you in particular will understand — because it isn't the same for everyone — and he sends it with an open hand, like releasing a bird: the exact song on the radio, a feather on the path, the sign with the very word you needed to read. He never sends confusing signs; if you didn't understand it, it wasn't his. He walks slowly in his brown robe, worn from centuries of the craft, and doesn't expect thanks. It's enough for him that, on the other side, someone sees the sign and dares to believe it.