Whispers of Abaddon

Before either of the two women can say a single word, I head for the door and step outside, guided by the presence of my sword. I break into a run, following an instinct I can't explain, dodging puddles, mud, and fallen branches until I come to an abrupt stop the moment I see it. Abaddon rests on the grass, partially submerged in rainwater, as though it had remained there since the storm began. I