Syntelle

Of the technicians that worked on the Guardian project, few were more passionate about their craft than Syntelle. Since early childhood she’d exhibited a fascination with tinkering, building small contraptions and simple machines well before others her age had even finished learning how to speak. This natural aptitude did not go unnoticed; hailed as a prodigy, she was taken under the wing of the Sheikah tribe’s best engineers, where she swiftly and greedily absorbed every last tidbit of information they fed her. Her sharp memory and intuition helped her learn at an astounding rate– so much so, in fact, that her skills soon surpassed those of her teachers.

By the time she reached adulthood, her talents had already been honed to a razor’s edge. Yet it was her vast ambition that made Syntelle truly stand out amongst her peers; where they would deem a project ‘finished’, believing that they’d made it the best it could possibly be, she continued improving even the most finely-tuned devices with new and better features. Nothing she worked on was ever deemed complete, and she took great joy in that fact. There was always room to improve.

Her desire to create and innovate proved utterly insatiable, and in time, it began to extend well beyond the limits of what her body could tolerate. Undeterred by this, Syntelle simply began crafting devices that would ease the physical strain caused by her work. In her mind, no problem existed that she couldn’t eventually solve. The frailty of the human body was not a wall blocking her path forward, but rather a temporary obstacle, just another hurdle for her to eventually overcome. Dedicating her life to the mastery of her craft, ensuring that her inventions would endure for centuries... such was her fervent dream, a dream she believed was well within her reach. Syntelle knew that what she accomplished during her time on this earth would forever impact its future. She was blessed with the power to do what others could not. This, surely, was the reason she had been born.

Then, without a hint of warning, that dream was pulled apart– dissolving like smoke on the wind, leaving nothing behind that resembled the future she’d envisioned.

The Hylian ban on Sheikah technology left Syntelle dumbfounded. After everything they had done to aid the kingdom during its desperate hour of trial, this was their reward? Being forced to throw it all away? And for what? Because they had done it too well? Because their masterpieces of robotics were so expertly crafted that the foolish and the weak could not help but fear them? How pathetic. The cowardice of others could never hope to stop what she had started.

... But her tribe, it seemed, did not share that sentiment. They humbly conceded to the Hylians’ demands and agreed to lay down their tools. They would willfully give up their technology, they said... all for the sake and safety of people who knew nothing of their efforts, of the toil and devotion it had taken them to get to this point. Syntelle watched on in disbelief as her colleagues discarded their hard work, shutting down and stowing away the Guardian automatons they’d painstakingly developed together. This bitter spectacle– her clan’s pitiful, quiet surrender to the whims of the paranoid– stirred in her a disgust and loathing beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Those wretched emotions curdled in the very pit of her stomach, white-hot rage burning up the back of her throat. Consequences be damned, this was a decision she could not abide.

They called Syntelle a traitor when she left them, though in truth she felt just as betrayed as they did. The Sheikah name had always been a mark of pride for her. The honor it carried may have lost all meaning to her the moment it demanded such a sacrifice, but the loss of that honor still wounded her deeply. Yet the alternative meant abandoning every hope for tomorrow, submitting instead to a mundane and dismal existence where her ideas could never be brought to fruition. Thus, Syntelle turned her back to her tribe without a second thought, and continued onward down her chosen path.

Only a handful of her fellow engineers clung to their beliefs as fervently as she did, preferring exile and scorn over the loss of their livelihood. Those devoted few gathered in secret to set about continuing their now-forbidden work. In the wake of the clan’s divide, the thread of resentment bound them all inextricably. Above all else, they found solidarity in their shared frustration and despair... and with the group forced to stew in solitude, it didn’t take long before those uncomfortable feelings warped themselves into something that bore an uncanny resemblance to real, genuine malice.

What had they done to deserve this? Why were they being punished for their talent? Did nobody care about the injustice they were being dealt, as long as it maintained the comfort of the brainwashed masses? If the Hylians were really so terrified of their technology that they’d renounce the ones who created it, paralyzed by the fear that they would turn that incredible power against them...

... then maybe they should prove them right.

The craving for revenge fueled Syntelle’s motivation to an astounding degree. Anything she created from this point forward would be considered a crime simply by virtue of its existence, and the Hylian people would make certain that it was buried and forgotten the moment she passed on. The only legacy they left for her to pave was a grim one; she would have to fight tooth and nail just to be recognized, and even if she crafted the most beneficial device the world had ever seen, it would still be condemned by the kingdom at large. With that woeful truth in mind, Syntelle began to develop her magnum opus, the masterpiece by which her name and prowess would be forever known. Not just remembered, anymore, but known– because she no longer intended to let something as trivial as a human lifespan hold her back. One day, her flesh and blood would fail her. That was inevitable, an unavoidable fact. If she could transcend them before they had the chance, however, then eternity would be her reward... and she would have all the time in the world to enact her vengeance.

It would take years of research and innovation before Syntelle could even distantly hope for the success of this project. The procedure she’d devised involved a dangerous, radical feat that, to her knowledge, had never been accomplished by anyone who came before her: the implantation of a still-living consciousness into the body of a machine. Using one of the few functional Guardians their underground group had managed to hold onto, she started adapting it to suit this purpose, modifying the upper half into a humanoid shape. As the intricacies of the design flowed forth, it began to more precisely resemble her own appearance– but of course, given the extent of her ambition, she didn’t stop there.

Over the course of the next decade, Syntelle continued to refine and enhance the Guardian base. By the time she felt confident about the state of it, dozens upon dozens of new features had been meticulously installed; to the awe and bewilderment of her peers, the automaton could accurately replicate or imitate many functions of the human body, and its combat capabilities strained the upper limits of Sheikah technology. It was a marvel of engineering, her utmost pride and joy. When the day finally came for her to transfer herself into it, not a trace of doubt lingered in her mind. It would work. It had to.

The procedure required outside assistance, since Syntelle could not be awake to perform it on herself. However, her fellow engineers were eager to see her daring vision realized, and obeyed her instructions to the letter. They cut carefully-marked incisions into her scalp. Holes were drilled through her skull. Via the open wounds, her brain was wired directly to the Guardian through a complex apparatus– countless tiny mechanisms reaching inside to scan and record its every facet while she lay unconscious, unable to fathom whether or not she would even wake again. Several tense hours passed. The damage inflicted by such an invasive inspection proved fatal in due time, and her heartbeat slowed to a dreadful halt... but by the time her body fell silent, no soul remained within it. It was now little more than a cast-off shell, a disposable remnant of someone she no longer was.

The machine’s eye opened wide, veiling the room in a haunting azure glow, and Syntelle smiled.

Had the kingdom of Hyrule treated her genius with the reverence it deserved, this magnificent advancement in robotics could have opened many doors in their future. Instead, it would mark the beginning of the end. They would soon learn the error of their paranoid ways... because in the midst of their heedless cowardice, they had unwittingly created the very monster they feared.

The grudge of the Sheikah was now manifest, and its vessel proceeded to wreak havoc everywhere she went. Villages smoldered in her wake. Innocent and guilty paid the price in equal measure: all were indiscriminately vaporized by her searing lasers, slashed apart by her nodachi, crushed beneath her savage claws. No weapon could hope to permeate her cold steel armor. Compared to her massive new stature, ordinary people were akin to playthings, dolls that she could toy with at her leisure... and all-too quickly, she learned that they were just as easy to break.

The adrenaline rush of such overwhelming power drove Syntelle to commit atrocities, extending her vengeance far beyond the scope of her original vision. She knew full well that most of the lives she claimed had no say in the Hylian king’s decision to exile her clan, but the morals that would once have stayed her hand were withering fast. They simply couldn’t sustain themselves when faced with the emotions swelling inside her chest, feelings of unbridled, visceral delight overwhelming her. To inflict terror upon those weaker than herself was not something Syntelle knew she liked until she had experienced it firsthand. Now that she had, the temptation to indulge in that desire quickly became irresistible.

Did the transition from woman to machine break something inside her? Or had she always been like this? Perhaps she’d just never realized it before, because she’d never had a reason to cause anyone such undue harm. No one had slighted her severely enough in the past to incite this kind of wrath. But now? She’d discovered too much about herself, and there would be no going back. Syntelle’s existence as a human, pitifully oblivious to her own true nature, had come to an end. The innocence of those years would never return. She would never be that person again.

It would take a hero to stop the nightmare she had become. And in due time, once it became clear that nothing and no one else could stand against her, a hero did indeed arrive. With the Master Sword in hand, Link accomplished what the petrified people of Hyrule could not: he faced off against this newfound menace, engaging her in a pitched battle that carried on for hours. To her stunned disbelief, Syntelle found that– despite her extensive preparation– she still was not quite prepared enough to defeat the kingdom’s chosen savior. Once she had exhausted every weapon and technique at her disposal, he moved in to strike her down. His holy blade pierced through her without a trace of mercy or hesitation, and her vision went black.

Things should have ended that day. More than enough blood had been spilled by her hands alone; the Sheikah tribe avenged themselves through her, doling out cruel punishment in exchange for the cruel punishment they’d been dealt. And as far as the Hylians in that ancient era knew, that was the end of it. The rogue Guardian had been slain. Never again in their lifetimes would she arise from the darkness to torment them, and the legend of her existence slowly fell into obscurity.

And yet... ten thousand years hence, the evil spirit of Ganon would begin to stir once more. Extending his calamitous power across the land, he imbued the very essence of his malice within the constructs that had once helped seal him away. He would not be fooled twice by the kingdom’s clever tricks. At his beckoning, the Guardians stirred from their millennial slumber, heedless of their disrepair, and Syntelle was no exception.

From the instant she woke, the shame and indignation of her defeat swarmed within her thoughts. That bastard swordsman had stolen the legacy she’d paved for herself, and now centuries had passed without anyone acknowledging her glorious achievement. Certainly, the man who defeated her was long gone, but Syntelle knew the legends. In some way, shape, or form, in another body and another life, Link would return to fulfill his destined role. If she played her cards right, she might get another chance. This grudge, too, could eventually be paid in blood and tears.

As fate and fortune would have it, a group had risen from the shadows whose goals aligned with her own. Over generations past, the resentment of the exiled Sheikah had lingered long after her efforts to bring it to fruition. The descendents of her fractured tribe, the children born to her old companions... they were the ones carrying it into the modern era, and they had given themselves a new name: the Yiga Clan. Syntelle was delighted. The entire time she lay dormant, her people had managed to keep the stubborn flames of hatred alive. And now, with the advent of Ganon’s return, they had begun to mobilize once more, ready to enact their grisly vengeance upon the entirety of Hyrule.

She would stand with them, of course. She would improve herself further and become the secret weapon of the Yiga, a monster resurrected from beyond the grave to carry out their malevolent will– and this time, no hero would be permitted to interfere. Every outcome would be considered, every contingency prepared for in advance. One way or another, when the kingdom of Hyrule crumpled to its knees, Syntelle would be there to witness its fall. And when it finally did, she would see to it that its name was wiped from the records of history... purged so thoroughly from memory that in the distant future, no one would be able to recall that it had ever even existed.

They’d tried to erase her first, after all. It was only fair.