The next morning began quietly.
Birdsong. Distant traffic. The smell of chalk dust still hanging in the corridors.
For a while, Vyom almost believed it had all been a dream — the recursion, the pendulum, the Devil beneath the ground. The sky was blue again. The light didn't flicker. The clocks ticked in rhythm.
Almost.
He touched the pendant under his shirt. It pulsed faintly — slower now, but still alive, like a heartbeat buried inside another heartbeat.
He whispered to himself, "Normal day. Just act normal."
His reflection in the hallway mirror didn't move.
It stared back, smiling faintly, lips out of sync.
He looked away quickly.
-Morning Roll Call
"Good morning, class!"
The teacher's voice cracked through the air with tired cheerfulness. Students shuffled to their seats, conversations blending into a restless murmur.
Vyom took his usual spot by the window, trying to ignore the faint echo that followed every sound — like the world was slightly delayed.
The attendance list rustled. The teacher began calling names one by one.
"Arun?"
"Here."
"Devika?"
"Here."
"Vyom?"
He raised a hand. "Here."
The teacher nodded, glanced at her clipboard, then frowned. "That's strange."
The class went quiet.
She counted the rows, lips moving silently. "There's one more desk filled than on the register. Did someone change sections?"
Heads turned. Whispers started.
Vyom followed their gaze — and froze.
At the far end of the last row sat a boy he hadn't seen before.
Same uniform. Same posture.
But something was off. The boy's hair was the same white shade as Vyom's, and his face — from a distance — looked eerily familiar.
He sat perfectly still, hands folded, eyes fixed straight ahead. When everyone else shifted or turned, he didn't move an inch.
The teacher blinked. "You are…?"
The boy stood slowly. "Roll number thirteen," he said softly.
The teacher frowned again. "We only have twelve—"
But before she could finish, the bell rang — loud and sharp, cutting through her words.
Once. Twice. Thirteen times.
No one reacted.
The teacher blinked as if disoriented. "Right. Let's begin."
Vyom's breath caught. Not again.
He looked back toward the boy — but the seat was empty.
---
The Lunch Break Loop
By midday, Vyom's nerves were fraying. Every conversation sounded faintly familiar, as though repeating itself from another hour. Even Anvi's message on his phone — "Don't skip lunch today!" — had the timestamp 12:13, though it was only 11:45.
He went to the cafeteria anyway, trying to distract himself with noise and food.
The air smelled of instant noodles and disinfectant. Students laughed, phones clicked, trays clattered.
He sat in a corner seat.
Across the room, by the window, the new boy was sitting — calmly eating, alone.
Vyom couldn't look away.
Every motion the boy made was exactly synchronized with Vyom's — lifting the fork, drinking water, setting it down.
A mirror.
Vyom dropped his fork.
The boy looked up instantly.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, everything around them went silent — the cafeteria frozen mid-motion, students unmoving, even the steam from the food stilled in air.
The boy tilted his head slightly and smiled.
"You're late."
Vyom's throat went dry. "Late for what?"
"For yourself."
The lights flickered. The world stuttered — and the noise returned. Students laughed again, oblivious. The boy was gone.
Only Vyom's fork lay on the floor, vibrating faintly.
---
The Library After Class
By afternoon, Vyom couldn't focus on anything. The teachers' voices faded into a dull hum; the chalk drawings on the board began rearranging themselves into spirals when no one looked directly.
When the final bell rang, he stayed behind — pretending to look for a book in the school library.
The old wooden shelves smelled of paper and dust. The air was cooler here, heavier. The clock above the doorway ticked faintly, steady as a heartbeat.
He ran a hand over the spines of books, letting his thoughts slow.
"The thirteenth bell marks the start of recursion."
The sentence from yesterday's textbook echoed again. He opened a random book — its pages blank except for a single line written across the center:
"Look behind you."
He turned slowly.
The thirteenth student was standing between the shelves.
Vyom stepped back. "Who are you?"
The boy smiled faintly. "You already know."
"No… I don't."
The boy's expression didn't change. "You named me once. In another hour."
Vyom's pulse quickened. "You're not real."
"Then why do I remember what you've forgotten?"
The books around them began to tremble, pages fluttering though there was no wind. The fluorescent lights flickered, the ticking clock accelerating.
Vyom shouted over the noise, "What do you want?!"
The boy's voice was calm. "I want what you left behind when you stopped time — the seconds that belonged to me."
The air warped. Vyom's vision fractured — he saw overlapping images of the boy standing in multiple places at once, each slightly older or younger, each speaking out of sync:
"I'm your reflection—"
"—your echo—"
"—your thirteenth hour."
Vyom clutched his head, falling to his knees. "Stop!"
Everything froze.
The air became liquid stillness.
The boy knelt in front of him, expression now strangely gentle.
"You can't keep pretending, Vyom. Every time you stop time, another version of you wakes up in the spaces you abandon. I'm just the first."
Vyom's voice shook. "Then what are you?"
"The hour between bells. The second you never lived."
The words echoed — the same phrase Nara had said the night before.
Vyom looked up sharply. "Did Nara send you?"
The boy's smile faltered. "Nara?" His tone darkened. "So she's awake again."
"What do you mean?"
"She's not your ally. She's your twin fracture — the balance you were meant to destroy."
Vyom staggered to his feet. "You're lying."
"Am I?" the boy whispered, stepping closer. "Then why does her heartbeat match yours?"
Vyom froze. Beneath the pendant, his chest thudded — and faintly, faintly, another rhythm answered it, distant but in sync.
He shook his head. "No…"
The boy tilted his head. "Every heir of the Devil has a mirror. You and she are halves of the same wound in time. And when the pendulum breaks again, only one half survives."
The sound of a bell cut through the silence — sharp, metallic, endless.
Vyom gasped. "What's happening?"
The boy smiled faintly. "The next recursion. You're running out of hours."
He began fading, his outline dissolving into dust-like motes of light. As he vanished, his voice lingered, echoing through the library like a whisper inside glass:
"When the thirteenth bell rings thrice, the world will forget your name."
Then he was gone.
The clock struck once.
---
Aftermath
Vyom stumbled outside the library, disoriented. The corridors were empty — completely empty. The windows showed a dark, frozen sky even though the time on his watch said 5:13 p.m.
He ran toward the courtyard.
The air outside shimmered like heatwaves, bending light.
Every sound was muffled, as if the world were submerged underwater.
He could see the shapes of students walking home — but all of them were transparent, repeating the same steps again and again.
A loop.
He backed away slowly — and bumped into someone.
Nara.
Her uniform was torn at the sleeve, her expression tense. "You saw him, didn't you?"
Vyom nodded shakily. "The thirteenth student. He—he said he's my reflection."
She exhaled. "Not reflection. Reversion. Every time your power activates, time tries to repair the gap you make by creating another you. But those versions can't survive for long."
"Then why did he say you're… my other half?"
Nara hesitated. "Because he's not entirely wrong."
Vyom stared. "What are you saying?"
She looked at him, eyes filled with something like sorrow. "I wasn't born. I was remembered. I'm the hour you lost the day your seal was placed."
Silence.
The wind carried faint echoes of a clock striking again.
Vyom whispered, "Then… you're part of me."
Nara nodded slowly. "And soon, the cracks will force us together — or apart forever."
Before he could respond, the ground trembled. The air warped again. The school clock tower glowed faint red against the horizon.
Nara's voice broke through the distortion: "It's happening early! The recursion's accelerating!"
Vyom shouted, "What do we do?!"
"Find the thirteenth bell. It's not a sound — it's a choice. When you hear it, don't let it finish ringing!"
The world folded inward — the courtyard, the students, even the sky spiraling into a whirlpool of ticking sound.
Vyom grabbed Nara's hand. "Hold on!"
The light swallowed them both.
---
Inside the loop
They landed in a place that wasn't anywhere.
A vast space of mirrors — thousands of them, floating endlessly in red fog.
Each one showed a version of Vyom — older, younger, distorted, screaming, laughing, silent.
Time itself had cracked into reflections.
Vyom whispered, "This is… me?"
Nara's voice trembled. "These are your lost hours."
One mirror near them began to pulse. Inside, the thirteenth student appeared again — eyes glowing faintly gold now.
"You can't escape yourself forever."
He pressed a hand against the glass. Cracks spread outward, bleeding light.
Nara shouted, "If he gets out, the recursion will collapse — and we'll lose our timeline!"
Vyom clenched his fists. "Then how do I stop him?!"
She pointed to his pendant. "Break it before he does!"
The mirror shattered.
The boy stepped through, his form half-real, half-light. "You can't destroy what you are, Vyom."
Vyom lifted the pendant, its glow intensifying. "Maybe not — but I can end the loop."
He crushed it in his hand.
A shockwave rippled through the mirrors, each one shattering like rain of light.
The space convulsed — time folding, merging, collapsing.
The thirteenth student's voice faded into a whisper:
"You broke the hourglass… now watch what falls out."
The light swallowed everything.
---
Reality
Vyom woke up at his desk.
Morning light. Classroom noise. The clock ticked calmly.
He blinked. Everyone was here — laughing, talking, normal.
No sign of Nara.
No sign of the thirteenth student.
His pendant — gone.
He touched his chest. Silence. No pulse but his own.
He exhaled shakily. "It's over…"
The teacher began roll call.
"Arun?"
"Here."
"Devika?"
"Here."
"Vyom?"
He raised a hand, smiling faintly. "Here."
The teacher nodded — then looked confused.
Her eyes scanned the list again. "Wait… we have an extra name. That can't be right."
Vyom's smile faded. "What name?"
The teacher squinted. "Roll number thirteen… Vyom."
The class went silent.
Vyom froze.
Outside, the bell began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Thirteen times.
And his reflection in the window smiled.
tick…
…tock.
---
End of Chapter 12 — The Thirteenth Student