**Chapter 4: The Breakdance of Doom** The Enchanted Workshop of Wonders had gone from eccentric to absolutely spell-shattering. Glitter rained from the rafters like magical confetti, potion bottles popped like enchanted popcorn, and the faint smell of singed fur lingered, courtesy of the Were-Chickens, who were still laying explosive eggs with reckless clucking abandon. Archibald Boomstaff stood with