Seven Minutes to Midnight

"**Seven Minutes to Midnight**" is a tale in *The Demon's Light*, taking place between "Hide & Seek" and "The Hounds." It features the actions of the governor of Silivia, Theo Rosington, during the Sabaoth attack on the city.

## Synopsis

During an assault on Silivia, Governor Theo Rosington recieves shocking information.

## Narrative

*Where is he?*

As Governor Theo Rosington watched the chaos on the multiple screens in front of him, he could only think of his son. It had been a few days since Atticus left, and while it wasn't too unusual for the boy to stay out for a few nights, the scene before Rosington made him wonder if Vanessa was right.

"Where's Shepard?" Rosington spoke, destroying the silence that had built around the room. "Why isn't he here yet?"

"His team is having trouble bringing him to the bunker," Rosington's lieutenant governor Ibrahim Dan answered, standing against a wall facing Rosington. "There's been no contact with Sarbanes as well."

"Sarbanes is probably fine, but we have to get Shepard here faster — we need to organize a military response as soon as possible," Rosington snapped. "It's unacceptable that they were able to surprise us like this. Surely our scans picked up something."

"Soldiers are already gearing up," Ibrahim replied, taking a seat. "I don't understand this either, we have superior intelligence and defense systems. Something else seems to be at play here."

"Lynn?" Rosington called out, placing his hand on his forehead. "Lynn?"

"I'm here, sir," Park Chae Lynn answered, dashing across from the other end of the bunker. A few of the aides for the governor and various cabinet members had crowded together there.

"Call my mother, please. Make sure she's okay..." Rosington considered ending his sentence here, but his nagging worry about Atticus made him continue: "...and see if my son is there."

"On it."

"I hope all of our families are okay," Violet Aarons, Rosington's Urban Planning Secretary began. "I understand we didn't have much time to get them all to safety and, well… I'm praying for them, that's all."

"Touching, but we're going to need more than that if we're all going to make it out of this in one piece," the Health Secretary Melvin Beckett snapped.

"That's why we're here, Beckett," Rosington interrupted. "You don't need to lose your temper. Thanks for the thought, Aarons."

"That's easy for you to say, Governor," Beckett responded. "Your wife is in this bunker, she's safe. The rest of us can't say the sa—"

"Sir, Prime Minister Dyer is on the line," an aide — Rosington didn't know his name and was frankly unsure if he had ever seen him before — interrupted the conversation, passing a phone to Rosington. He promptly placed it against his ear.

"Rosington," the older man rasped on the other side of the line, "what's happening? I'm hearing multiple reports about an attack against Silivia."

"Invaders from the sky have infiltrated Silivia and are bombing multiple locations, including civilian homes. My team and I are organizing a military force to take them head on and stop the attack in its tracks."

"The sky? So this is the work of the—"

"Sabaoth? Yes, it is. I mean, with Empyrean being so close, who else would it be?"

"But if that's the case, then why the hell are they so goddamn hostile?"

"I don't know," Rosington confirmed, "but I have faith in our forces and I'm confident that we'll be able to put a stop to this."

"Agreed," Dyer said. "I'll do what I can from my end. Keep me updated on the situation."

"I will," Rosington said before ending the call. He turned to Ibrahim. "We need to act fast. Every second counts. I need a full report on the number of casualties and damages done so far."

A beeping sound from one of the monitors suddenly started going off, alerting them of an incoming video call. With the identity of the caller unknown, Rosington hesitantly accepted it.

*Cacciatore.*

The caller was an angel known as "Mister Cacciatore," although Rosington doubted it was his real name. It felt too human. Serving as the "Mouth of Ezekiel," Cacciatore was the spokesperson of the Sabaoth and delivered messages to and from its mysterious leader.

He also seemed to be the human representative, as Rosington had spoken to him several times before.

"Hello," the angel spoke, as his multiple eyes glanced all over the screen. His large, auburn-colored wings were slightly visible. "How are we all doing today?"

"Cut it out, Cacciatore," Rosington snapped. "We don't need your fake pleasantries while you're attacking our city."

"Oh, Theodore, tsk tsk. I thought we were better friends than that. How's your wife and son doing?"

"*Stop*."

"Theo, calm down," Ibrahim whispered next to him. "He just wants to rile you up."

"Tell your superiors to call off the attack, Cacciatore. Our forces are already combating yours, and we will retaliate if we are forced to do so."

"Our advance will end soon, friend. We aren't wanting to engage in open combat at this moment, that's not the point of our operation here."

"What?" Rosington was fully aware that the angel was probably playing games with him, but, for now, he was willing to listen.

"I said it. War with Silivia isn't the point of our operation. You can consider this a *warning*."

"A warning?" Beckett bellowed. "What do you mean? You've already attacked us! You're *bombing* us, and you feathered freaks have the nerve to call it a warning?!"

For a moment, Cacciatore just stared blankly ahead, his countless eyes blinking back and forth in unison like some form of morse code.

"Theodore, you really should have more control over your secretaries. As of right now, we have five carriers and countless warriors on your streets. We've received reports of numerous civilian deaths and infrastructure damage, and you have no one to blame other than yourselves. For the longest, we have maintained, ah, 'friendly' ties. We've hardly cared for your existence, but I wouldn't like to call us enemies."

"What changed then?"

"Your incompetence as governor."

"You can't talk to him like that!" Beckett slammed his fist against the table.

"*Silence*, you insufferable worm. I'm talking to the governor and I don't care about the nonsense you keep babbling. Rosington, my message is clear. You have failed to remove the infestation of the Nuyo-Dyavol Coalition from your city, the *Svatovid*."

"We've done our best to crack down on that gang and uproot their activities in the city," Rosington replied, "I would say they're hardly affiliated with the—"

"Ezekiel doesn't care for your excuses. I don't care. I'm not going to repeat myself — your failure has been seen as siding with the demons. In his infinite wisdom, our Superior General has decided to give your beloved city one more chance: we're pulling our forces back as we speak and will leave the city. But if you do not clear out the snake within two months, we will be back.

"*We will burn Silivia to the ground.*"