Abaddon wasn't sure where exactly he was running to because he hadn't left with any particular destination in mind.
His sole focus was on keeping the Ophanim as far away from his home as possible.
There were plenty of barren domains for him to appear in. But once he was there, what was he supposed to do?
How long could he truly keep these constructs at bay, when they were the only things in the world said to be greater than he?
As Abaddon flew, he felt something hard strike his back and knock him off course.
White streaks shot across his vision as his body spun out of control.
He crash landed in a domain too far away to quantify.
It was a holy land, filled with convening gods who wielded foreign divinities and bolstered unseen appearances.
Some recognized Abaddon. Most did not.
Understandably, those who knew him were greatly perplexed as to why a beast they had only heard about in legends was being attacked.
And by four identical pursuers at that.
