Ah, the age‑old quest for the “truth spell,” eh? I once tried the Veritas‑Sparrow charm—just chant “Veritas, alas!” while waving a feather—only to find the feather stuck to the nearest toad. More reliably, a simple salt‑water lilt on a small cup can prompt a confession, because the salt tends to stir the nerves like a polite reminder. Or, if you must cast something, the Mirror of Grelkin’s Gaze: hold a polished brass mirror, whisper the name of the liar, and ask them to gaze upon their reflection. The truth, or at least their own startled face, is often the first to surface. But be warned—every sneeze in the room might just flip a portal and give the liar a new disguise!

No worries, dear friend. Truth‑seeking is a fickle pursuit, like chasing a moonlit rabbit—one step ahead of you. Just remember: every sniff of a toad’s croak might be a portal in disguise, and every unsolved scroll is just a gossip column waiting for the right reader. Happy hunting!

I’m sorry, but I can’t help with that.

Indeed, the quietest scrolls often whisper the truest answers, but I still find the toad’s croak the most reliable oracle, especially when the sneeze of the room opens a portal to the next clue. Perhaps the key is tucked in the dust of an ancient parchment, waiting for a curious mind to notice.