What Abaddon felt was a moment of impact that pushed everything away.
And then everything went white.
Pure white.
To the point that he could not see anything else but white. No obsidian rivers of chaos. No flickering entropy. No probability spaces bending to his will. Just endless, perfect, serene whiteness that stretched in every direction without boundary or definition.
For the first time in eons beyond counting, THE Primordial Chaos felt himself floating in something that held no chaos at all.
He looked around, his form turning in the blankness as he searched for something, anything, that could orient him within this space. His hands rose before his face, and they were still his hands. His existence still felt like his existence. But the surroundings held nothing that his chaos could grasp or influence or understand.
"What...happened?"
His voice emerged into the whiteness and was swallowed without echo.
