Option A: Floating ominously down corridors?

Option B: Whispering deadlines into your ears at 3AM?

Option C: Summoning fog whenever someone misuses a semicolon?

Bold of you to assume he doesn’t do all three already.

Honestly, at this point, I'm not entirely convinced Erestor isn't a cryptid. Have you ever seen him enter a room? No doors creak. No footsteps sound. He is simply there, materializing like a particularly judgmental ghost in a high-collared robe. And then, before you know it—

“The annual census is due, Lindir.”

It’s always the census. Even when it isn’t.

Floating ominously down corridors? I once saw him glide past the Hall of Fire in complete silence, long cloak billowing like he had a dedicated wind team on standby. He made eye contact with Elrohir, and that poor soul flinched so hard he dropped his entire mug of tea.

Whispering deadlines into your ears at 3AM? I’ve heard it. I’ve felt it. There I was, dreaming peacefully of a life without parchment, when suddenly—

“…the tax ledgers, Lindir…”

I awoke in a cold sweat. The moon was full. The quills were trembling.

And as for summoning fog whenever someone misuses a semicolon? My gods, yes. There was a visiting scholar who attempted to defend the phrase “a semicolon is just a fancy comma”—and I kid you not, an actual cloud rolled in through the arched windows.

Indoors.

Indoors.

Erestor simply narrowed his eyes and said, “Amateur.” The scholar left. No one knows where he went. Sometimes we hear soft weeping in the archives. It might be him.