After things began to cool down, I talked to Zaak for the first time in a long while.
"Zaak, there are some things I need to know."
"So you finally figured it out, eh?" Zaak look saddened by this turn of events, even though I didn't know what was going on. "Ian, long before you were born there was a prophecy concerning you and two other people. Unfortunately, you were the only one with a specified birth date. the prophecy did, however, state that you would know where to find the other two."
"Other two what?"
"They were called the Gods of Power. The three of you were to be the most powerful magical creatures ever known. One thing that doesn't fit the prophecy though is the fact that you were supposed to be a prophet as well."
"But I never..."
Zaak smiled.
"Exactly. But since you were supposed to be a prophet, I, the chief prophet of the Council, was chosen to solely train you. Ever since it was shown that you didn't have the gift of prophecy, we all hoped that you weren't actually the subject of the prophecy. But that's enough history for today."
"Bu-bu-but..."
Zaak smiled again and walked out of the room.
Disapointed with my half answers, I began to wander around outside. Basking in the glory of nature, I began to play around with the power inside my body. I found that by speeding up my heart I could slow time, similar to what had happened when I first had the ring on. Bored with that, I began to play with the plants in the woods. While I couldn't make them grow on command, some odd things began to happen. By channeling the power in me, I could make woods springier, softer, more flexible, and harder. Much much harder. In fact, I found that I could make branch so strong even I couldn't break it. After some searching, I found a branch as tall as I was. I brought it back to the shop at the house, and carved it into a slender pole. I grabbed Greta's broken sword out of my room, and brought it to the grinder in the shop. Once I ground the blade into a tapering curve, I cut off most off the handle. I cut a notch in the end of the staff, and fitted the remaining handle in the notch. After hardening the still-living-wood as much as I could, I pounded a metal cap over the notch, holding the blade in place.
Stepping out of the shop, I brandished my new scythe.