Sometimes Narcissus felt as if there was someone else there. Not the nymphs; he knew about those, they had always been there, fawning over him. And why shouldn't they? He was, after all, the most beautiful person on Earth; everyone should fawn over him.

But no, the nymphs were not what he was thinking about. Sometimes, when he spoke praises to himself, he heard anouther voice, a girl's voice, barely audible, echoing what he said.

The voice wasn't like the nymph's fangirly screeches, obsessing over him. It was soft, and almost not there, fading away before you could concentrate on it. It was sad; why a person would be sad when they were witnessing someone as good-looking as him, Narcissus didn't know, but the voice was sad all the same.

Of course, Narcissus didn't think about the voice much. No, his main thoughts always consisted of himself. Still, the voice lingered in the back of his mind. But the voice was something Narcissus could could not know the answer too, and he didn't like to think of things he could not do. He preferred to concentrate on how stunningly radiant he was, better than anything else.

So naturally, Narcissus didn't think about much.

Sometimes he swore he'd seen something too, out of the corner of his eye. A flicker, a disruption, and out of the corner of his eye, it would look like someone was there, for a split second. But when he looked at the area where he thought the disruption he been, there was nothing there.

It was simply a trick of the light, he told himself. And he believed that. But still, sometimes he could have sworn that he had someone else, someone different. That he had heard a voice that wasn't the same as the others. But Narcissus dismissed these thoughts.

After all, he told himself, it must have been only an echo.