Hailing from Kakariko Village in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild universe, Sheik is a faithful member of the Sheikah tribe, the devoted and shrouded guardians of the Royal Family. It's no secret that studying the ways of a shadow tribe warrior played a significant role in his journey to maturity. However, the more intimate details pertaining to his days as a child are far less conspicuous. When taking into account just how few 

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and far between the moments of a carefree lifestyle were allowed to him, even he does not remember much about that period of time in his life.

 

It had seemingly been a dark, tranquil evening when disaster first struck. His mother was trekking the path on horseback to Kakariko after a day's trip to Hateno Village. She had been accruing fabrics and supplies for the months to come—after all, she had a newborn to look after, only a week old since she’d left him in Impa’s temporary care. She would not see this journey to fruition, however; for in recent days, the population of monsters had been on the rise. The phenomenon was ultimately inexplicable to a civilian community, but the history books foretold of the darkness to come. When the young woman was ambushed by an outcropping of Stalmoblins, spooking her horse into a bucking fury, her fate was sealed the moment she hit the ground.

 

And thus, Impa’s temporary care became permanent… more or less. Although she was quick to serve as the babe’s primary guardian, it was not uncommon for him to be looked after by other clan members, as was the usual for the children among them. Because he hadn’t been left with a name, or at least not to the knowledge of any living party, he was given the diminutive of “Sheik”—a placeholder similar to that of “John Doe” amidst the tribe. Needless to say, it ended up sticking. 

 

Time marched on. While shrewd beyond his years, he was not an especially talkative boy. A greater portion of his childhood was spent among the few other peers of his clan, fooling around on the outskirts of the village and painting his face to match the trees. With the other children he'd play hide-and-seek and guards-and-thieves, all the while perfecting the art of surprise on poor, unwitting victims, in imitation of Shadow Folk legends long past… much to the dismay of the local cuccos. Pushing the boundaries of safety outside the Village was something of a game all its own. Danger would not find him, so long as he did not venture far beyond home. Which was, admittedly, something he was content with. Some evenings he’d sit by the fireside in quiet reverence of the stars, falling asleep to the gentle flute played by Impa. Sleep was rewarding and the days were enough, rarely perceived as too long or too short. For a brief, hazy time, the world was not lacking.

 

As the years passed and the emergence of monsters increased tenfold, however, there was talk of a slumbering evil soon to wake. Sheik was inducted early into the greenhorn stages of a Shadow Folk warrior. At about the age of twelve, he was inked in black with the signature eye-drop tattoo, just below the nape of his neck. Thus began his lessons in discipline.

 

Always the quick learner and dedicated student, Sheik became well-schooled in the practice of the hit-and-run strategy under the Sheikah Monks, honing his timing of when and how to utilize each and every moment of disguise to his advantage. Formal combat sessions went hand-in-hand with training in Shadow Magic, as well as back-to-back with slighter academic lessons. In short, he became well-acquainted with hitting 

 

the floor. Getting up and pushing through the weaning reserves of his stamina evolved into something of a mantra; Rise. Recuperate. Respond. Speed served as his shield, and stealth his blade. His mentors intended to drill these habits into his brain so that he may better suit his role. 

 

As his training progressed, challenges were added. It became crucial that he learned to adapt beyond his zone of comfort. Blindfolded and put to sleep by his mentors, he'd often awaken among landscapes he had never seen before, bound in some way or another, but always alone. His instructions were simple: survive, and find his way home. The lesson manifested very quickly to him: preparedness for change is the best guarantee of security. And boy, wasn't that just the quickest recipe for conjuring paranoid habits. "Looking over his shoulder," in more ways than one, became second nature.

 

The only routine Sheik came to rely on was that of the alternating days, and the patterns that came with them. A day of work, a day of rest. "Work" took on several meanings over time, for all he could be certain of on those days was that he was going to learn something. The only schedule spared to him frequently consisted of: "A Lesson in Vigilance." "A Review on Swiftness." "An Exercise in Patience." And so on and so forth. The meanings ultimately varied, of which he could never trust with any degree of confidence. Ultimately, the intent was clear; do not rely on routine in times of conflict. The only certainty is change. 

 

Over time, his lessons spaced apart. That did not mean, however, that the work was over. Monsters were on the rise, and with them a new sprout of blood-thirsty fiends surfaced. They called themselves the Yiga. Former Sheikah, revoking their pledge to Hylia and siding with that of her enemy. To say he was reviled with their change of heart was an understatement. From there on out, any conditioning he underwent was borne of independent discipline. A new era was on its way. Though the source of it was prophesied through legends and ancient texts, it was determining where its roots had been laid that was the problem. He could not be content to leave all the work to some other unnamed entity. He could not be satisfied with waiting indefinitely for another to spell out the fate of his home.

 

He delved deeper into what records he could find—studies on the Shadow Arts, texts in history and legends and prophecies, manuscripts on the past eras of his people, on the royal family, on Hyrule and miscellaneous myths. History on the ancient Shadow Temple, its monsters, its secrets… "Here is gathered Hyrule’s bloody history of greed and hatred…" And soon he came to learn that it was in fact a graveyard, in more senses than one. "Those attuned to the Dark Arts may partake in its woeful aptitude." He lost himself in the words. Perhaps… bearing some of this burden would aid in revealing where the source of Malice was greatest. 

 

The burdensome thoughts lingered in the back of his mind. During his downtime, he would try to separate himself from the stress of his self-imposed responsibilities through meditation. Any form of distraction would serve this purpose, but clearing his head was most important to him. Mainly due to the occasional intrusion of unnamed guests and disembodied voices in his field of perception. A new, yet familiar fear grappled his heart. It was only when he brought his worries to Impa that she sagely informed of the side-effects of Shadow Magic inclusion—that being, a heightened sensitivity to the spiritual energy that naturally accompanied it. Hearing legitimate whispers that others could not generally served as something of an increased paranoia-generator. 

 

The issue went beyond hearing things; oftentimes the lingering emotions of spirits were tangibly shared to him when crossing through energy hotspots. Vaguely unsettling ruins to some was a graveyard of lingering bitterness and resentment to Sheik. A potent sense of dread manifesting as a physical ache in his chest, among other things. Moreso, it was the fear of the unknown that the incidents produced in him. Many nights of rest were lost to this development, and it took several years of exposure for him to eventually learn how to tune it out when necessary.

 

In time he had grown accustomed to the tribulations of such internal conflict, although the ever-increasing spike in monster population continued to pressure the land. It wouldn't be for another several years, however, that any semblance of a resolution would emerge. And until then he would continue to carry out his self-contained duty of eradicating malice, wherever its roots may grow.