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The temple halls were too quiet for comfort.
Which was, of course, why Two Time was halfway through the upper ventilation shaft, dragging their limbs like a cat stuck in a cardboard tube, whisper-shouting every curse they’d ever learned in alphabetical order.
“—damn it, Azu, you said I would fit!”
From somewhere behind them, Azure crouched at the vent’s opening, trying (and failing) not to laugh. His hair was falling in front of his eyes, and his grey-gloved hands were gripping the frame like he’d slip if he let go. “I measured it,” he whisper-hissed. “You do fit. You just don’t know how to crawl like a rational being.”
“I’m crawling like someone with bones, which I have, thank you,” Two Time snapped, squirming forward a few inches with a strained groan. “Unlike you, shadow-boy, who’s built like a coat hanger and a sigh.”
“That’s not even an insult,” Azure muttered, but there was amusement bleeding through his voice. “Besides, you said this was important. Sacred work. ‘Holy mischief,’ you called it.”
“It is!” Two Time declared, voice echoing a little too loudly. They froze, both of them listening. No footsteps, no cult leaders descending with daggers and sermons. Good. Still clear.
“…You’re stealing a candle.”
“Correction: I am liberating a candle. A sacred object of olfactory power. That storage closet has been locked for weeks, and what’s inside? Forgotten relics? Ancient scrolls? No! Scented candles. And not just any scented candles; fruit punch scented candles. That’s prophecy-tier material, Azu.”
Azure groaned and flopped against the wall like a bored bat. “I cannot believe you dragged me out at midnight for this.”
“You can and you did,” Two Time said proudly, finally slipping free of the vent and dropping into a crouch in the storage room with a triumphant thud. “And you’ll thank me when we’re soaking in the sweet, rebellious scent of artificial citrus and moral decay.”
A moment later, Azure dropped down beside them with more grace, knees bent like a practiced thief. His eyes (for once visible, faint silver in the gloom) scanned the shelves of offerings, ritual items, and, as promised, a whole forgotten box labeled “ARCHIVAL AROMATICS” in dusty black marker.
Two Time beamed. “Boom.”
They cracked the box open like it contained the Ark of the Covenant. Inside: at least twelve untouched, hand-poured candles. “Fruit Punch Frenzy,” read the label. The wax was hot pink and faintly glittery. It smelled like every sugar-high from their childhood wrapped in a war crime.
“Dear Spawn,” Azure murmured. “It’s worse than I imagined.”
“It’s perfect,” Two Time breathed. They plucked one out and held it like a holy artifact. “Can you believe they were just going to leave these in storage? All that potential joy, wasted. Suppressed. This is spiritual sabotage.”
“You are unhinged.”
“You *love* that about me.”
“…Unfortunately,” Azure said, looking away, but not quite hiding his smile.
Two Time tucked two candles into their cloak. “One for us, one for the dorm. Ceremony’s tomorrow, right? We light it during the meal. Really throw the high priests off their game.”
“They’ll know it was us.”
“Of course they’ll know. That’s the point. We’re the only ones with a shred of taste around here.” Two Time waggled their eyebrows. “Besides, I saw you doodling little wizard hats on your robe margins during sermon. You’re no pure acolyte.”
Azure flushed and looked away. “They were sketch studies.”
“You named one ‘Spelly McTunic.’”
“Shut up and take the candle.”
They tiptoed back toward the vent and started hoisting themselves back up, this time with Azure going first. Just as Two Time was about to follow, they paused. The candle flickered in their grip; some residual enchantment in the room, maybe, or just a flick of their own anticipation.
“Hey,” they said quietly. Azure looked down from the shaft.
“…Yeah?”
Two Time smiled, a little softer. “Thanks for coming. Really.”
Azure blinked. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice. You woke me up with a plastic dagger and a poem about how the spawn of darkness called us to fulfill our destiny.”
Two Time grinned wide. “It was a good poem.”
“It rhymed ‘steal’ with ‘meal.’”
“Because the candle smells delicious. You’re welcome.”
Azure sighed, but he was smiling too now — a crooked, real thing that made something in Two Time's chest flicker with warmth.
“Let’s go commit petty arson,” Azure said.
Two Time laughed. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
. . .
Later that night, back in their shared dorm room, the flame of Fruit Punch Frenzy flickered softly between them. Azure was lying back against a pile of stolen robes (all in shades of dramatic black, of course), and Two Time was sketching something in their journal: a doodle of a very dramatic wizard holding a candle like a sword.
The room smelled like cherry syrup and rebellion.
They didn’t say much. They didn’t have to.
In that moment, they were just two idiots in love with the world they were trying to survive.
Two idiots in a cult, in a cycle, in a mess... but together.
And that was enough.
For now.