In the ancient woods, there lived a Oread (mountain nymph) named Echo. In Greek mythology stories, nymphs are often side characters, but Echo was the life of the party. She was beautiful, kind, and possessed one defining trait: she loved to talk. She could tell stories for hours, distracting anyone who listened. Her voice was her power.
Zeus, the King of Gods, loved to visit Earth to spend time with the nymphs. He knew his wife, Hera, was always watching. So, Zeus asked Echo for a favor: "Use your beautiful voice to distract Hera while I am wandering the mountains." Echo, happy to help the King, agreed.
Hera descended from Olympus, suspicious as always. She was looking for Zeus. But every time she got close, Echo would pop up. "Oh, Queen Hera! Have you seen these flowers? Let me tell you a story about this tree!" Echo chattered on and on, blocking Hera’s path with a wall of words.
Hera was not a goddess to be trifled with. She realized she was being played. She saw Zeus escaping in the distance while Echo kept talking. The realization hit Hera cold and hard. This nymph wasn't just annoying; she was an accomplice. Hera’s rage was quiet, which made it terrifying.
"You love the sound of your own voice," Hera hissed, pointing a finger at Echo. "So you shall keep it, but with a price. You will never speak first again. You will only be able to repeat the last words spoken to you." Instantly, Echo’s throat tightened. She tried to beg for mercy, but no sound came out. Her identity was stripped away.
Echo fled into the forest, humiliated. For a girl who defined herself by her wit and storytelling, this was a fate worse than death. She became a shadow, hiding in caves and behind trees, desperate to communicate but unable to start a conversation. She was the first victim of isolation in this mythology story.
Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, a boy named Narcissus was born. He was the son of a river god and a nymph. He was breathtakingly beautiful. Even as a baby, his beauty was unnatural. His mother asked the blind seer Tiresias: "Will my son live a long life?"
Tiresias gave a cryptic answer that haunts Greek myths to this day: "He will live a long life... if he never knows himself." No one understood what it meant. How could knowing yourself be fatal? They assumed it meant he should avoid mirrors, but the danger was much deeper.
Narcissus grew up to be the most handsome young man in the world. Everyone loved him. Men, women, and nymphs threw themselves at his feet. But Narcissus felt nothing. He was cold, distant, and arrogant. He didn't just reject people; he looked through them. He had what we might call today "Main Character Syndrome."
Admirers would follow him, begging for a glance. "I love you!" they would cry. Narcissus would simply laugh and walk away. He believed no one was good enough for him. He left a trail of heartbreak wherever he went, unaware that the gods punish this kind of hubris (pride).
One day, Narcissus was hunting deer in the deep woods. He got separated from his friends. Echo, hiding in the bushes, saw him. Her heart stopped. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She fell in love instantly—a deep, painful, obsesssive love.
Echo followed him silently. She wanted to call out, "I am here! I love you!" But the curse choked her. She could only wait. She stepped on a dry twig. Snap. Narcissus spun around. "Who's there?" he shouted.
Echo, hidden, could only repeat his last words. "Who's there?" she replied from the trees. Narcissus looked confused. "Come here!" he ordered. "Come here!" Echo repeated joyfully, thinking he was inviting her.
"Let us meet!" Narcissus yelled, growing impatient. "Let us meet!" Echo cried out. She ran out of the bushes, her arms wide open, ready to embrace her love. She poured all her emotion into those three repeated words.
Narcissus recoiled in disgust. He pushed her away violently. "Hands off!" he sneered. "I would rather die than let you have me." Echo fell to the ground, crushed. Her repeating voice could only sob, "Let you have me..."
Narcissus walked away without looking back. Echo was heartbroken. She hid in a dark cave, covering her face with leaves. She stopped eating. She stopped sleeping. Slowly, her physical body began to fade away from grief. Her bones turned to stone. Finally, only her voice remained—the Echo we hear today in canyons and empty halls.
But in mythology stories, pain rarely goes unpunished. Nemesis, the goddess of revenge, saw what Narcissus did to Echo and his other admirers. "He who loves only himself," she declared, "shall suffer a love that can never be returned."
One hot afternoon, Narcissus was thirsty. He found a pristine, silver pool of water deep in the forest. The water was so still it looked like a mirror. Narcissus knelt down to drink. As he bent over, he saw a face in the water.
He didn't realize it was his own reflection. He thought it was a beautiful water spirit living in the pool. He fell in love instantly. He smiled, and the face smiled back. He reached out to touch the beautiful boy, but the moment his finger touched the water, the image rippled and vanished.
Narcissus panicked. "Come back!" he cried. He stayed there for days, staring at himself. He couldn't eat or sleep; he was paralyzed by his own beauty. Just like Echo, he began to waste away. He died by the pool, staring at his reflection. When the nymphs came to bury him, his body was gone. In its place grew a flower with white petals and a golden center: the Narcissus (Daffodil). A beautiful flower that bends its neck to look at the ground, or perhaps, at its own reflection.
