Introduction

My good friend Brooke wrote this explanation for me. It describes how and why my life in Soho makes more sense than I previously understood. Thanks Brooke!

Kristina

Real Origins

Krystina’s life began on the banks of the Middle Brook – today’s Bradford Brook – in what’s now called Little Horton, a suburb of Bradford. She wasn’t born in the human sense—she emerged, grown from a pod alongside her sisters, part of a thriving nymph community hidden in the dense woods. Life there was simple and magical, woven together with the pulse of the river. She had a role, a purpose, though she was too young to fully understand it. The water recognized her, as did the others, marking her as something important, something more.

But the human world broke through, as it always does. Men came to the woods, their axes and torches disturbing the quiet harmony. Krystina should have fled with the others, disappearing into the safety of the water. Instead, something happened—some instinct she hadn’t known she had—a transformation. Her form shifted, shrinking, softening, her ageless beauty replaced with the fragility of a child. Perhaps it was meant to protect her, to make her less threatening, less noticeable.

It didn’t work.

The men found her alone by the riverbank, a scared little girl with dark eyes too big for her face. They didn’t see a nymph; they saw a child, one they could take. Maybe they thought they were rescuing her. Maybe they didn’t think at all. Either way, they dragged her from the water and into a life of pain.

Surviving

She grew up in the human world, on the edges of Bradford’s grey estates, though “grew” wasn’t the right word. She remained small, slight, her body refusing to age in the way it should have. To everyone else, she was just a lost girl—unclaimed, unwanted, and unprotected.

Life on the estates was bleak. Krystina learned quickly how to fend for herself, though it wasn’t enough to keep her safe. The men there were no kinder than the ones who’d stolen her from the woods. By the time she was a teenager—or what passed for one—she’d been through more than most endure in a lifetime. Violence, exploitation, survival. These were the lessons Bradford taught her.

Lost Past

She forgot the Middle Brook, the nymphs, the magic. She had to. Memories of those quiet, golden days were too painful when set against the harshness of her new reality. Her connection to the water dulled, a distant hum she ignored in favor of the sharp demands of the present.

But some part of her refused to give up. On her 16th birthday, Krystina left. She didn’t celebrate, didn’t tell anyone goodbye. She packed what little she had and walked to the station, buying a one-way ticket to London. Her reflection in the train window was the same as always—a petite, pretty teenager, her eyes older than they should have been.

A New Home

When she stepped into Soho for the first time, something shifted. The air felt familiar, alive with an energy that reminded her of the brook. She didn’t know then what it meant—only that she was drawn to it, like a thread pulling her forward. Drawn to The Duck. To Beth and Mikki.

The years that followed were chaotic but freeing. Soho was a place where you could reinvent yourself, where no one asked too many questions. Krystina carved out a life for herself, learning to navigate its streets and secrets. The past stayed buried, though it never truly left her.

Origins on the Tyburn

It wasn’t until her first night in the forest outside The Duck that everything came rushing back—the brook, the pod, the nymphs, and the magic she’d thought was lost. The truth hit her like a wave: she wasn’t just Krystina, the girl from Bradford. She was something more, something ancient.

Realisation

And though the memories brought pain, they also brought power. She wasn’t a victim anymore. She was a nymph, eternal and unbroken, living in a human world without pain and depression.