Nothing uneventful ever happened in Damon's life. If something was uneventful, it was a sign that something horrible was about to happen.

That was why he finally relaxed only after they had survived the treacherous trial and the strange, almost eldritch horrors inside the Garden of Hunger. After four long days, they finally reached the clear lake.

It should have been easy to get here, but they had been trapped by a boglike creature and forced to flee through a maze of bones. Trial after trial had blocked their path until at last the lake stretched before them.

Its waters were still and almost perfectly clear, reflecting a bleak dark sky. Damon hesitated to even call it a sky. A night sky had some familiarity to it. This one did not. It was stranger, empty in a way that made the lake feel like a mirror into something that should not exist.

He had looked at it before, but now that he focused again, he realized he had missed something.

A memory stirred and he heard his mother's voice.

"It's the heart that sees, not the eyes."

His words drifted across the lake and reached Lazarak, who smiled softly and turned his attention to the water.

"Wise words. We will need them for the Trial of Truth."

Lazarak looked at the still surface.

"Often we rely on our eyes, but they never show enough. The heart is what sees. It feels and understands even when we cannot."

Damon understood only part of that. A nostalgic expression flickered in Lazarak's eyes, something ancient and heavy. Damon could not begin to understand a god who had lived longer than the world itself.

"You have seen many seasons. Are you not tired?" Damon asked quietly. For him, life had always been about enduring.

"The most significant thing you can do in life is die." He spoke the words softly.

Lazarak chuckled and kept his gaze on the lake.

"You are a depressing creature. Life is not something you endure. It is something you enjoy. Enjoy it while you can, because the dead cannot."

Damon crossed his arms. His dark body did not reflect on the water. His form was shadows made into flesh. Even so, he could not agree with Lazarak.

"This coming from someone who was left to rot at the bottom of a prison. You are certainly living it up."

Lazarak rolled his eyes and folded his tiny hands behind his back.

"I enjoy whatever moments I can. You should try that instead of constantly looking for reasons to die."

Damon heard the warning in his tone. Lazarak was trying to pull him away from the thoughts Damon always drifted toward.

"Life is a tragedy when viewed up close. At a distance it is nothing but a comedy."

Damon glanced down at the small body of the toddler who was the god of darkness.

"Do you know what that means?" he asked.

Lazarak smiled again, still watching the lake. For a moment it felt like only the two of them existed, with Matia silent behind them like a patient shadow.

"Yes. It means you should try to find happiness. The things you think are painful are small trifles if you live into tomorrow. Pain does not last forever."

Damon closed his eyes. What an optimistic way to see the world. That was the difference between him and Lazarak. Lazarak saw the bright side of things. He never forgot to hope. Hope was all they really had.

'Tomorrow was never promised. Today was never enough. Yesterday was already gone. Tomorrow was only a hope.'

"Pain does not last forever, but its scars remain. Those are eternal." Damon opened his eyes again.

"Happiness never lasts. All you keep is a faint memory of how it tasted. Memories fade. All of them eventually fade."

Lazarak finally looked at him. Matia bowed her head silently, listening.

"I will tell you what those words mean to me."

Damon's eyes softened.

"They remind me that nothing matters. Nothing is truly important. That is why life is a tragedy. Everything you have will be lost. Even so, I hold on. My sister, my apprentice, my friends. They are all fleeting things I will eventually lose. And even knowing that, I laugh. That is the comedy."

As Damon spoke, Lazarak felt something tighten in his chest. His eyes filled. Tears slipped down his cheeks and dropped into the lake with soft plops.

Damon stared in confusion. He did not understand. Why was he crying. Why would this god of peace, the same one destined to bring forth the ultimate destroyer, begin to weep.

"Why do you weep, Lazarak?"

Lazarak touched his wet cheeks. His fingertips trembled as he looked at the tears on his hands.

"Because I am sad."

He was a god, but he was not emotionless. His heart was as deep and fragile as any mortal's.

"Why are you sad?" Damon asked, his voice low.

Lazarak tried to smile as more tears fell into the lake.

"I am sad because I see a lost soul crying for my help. I am weeping because I am helpless to do anything for him."

Damon watched him in stunned silence.

"I am sad because I cannot take away pain. I am sad because all I can do is weep." Lazarak's voice shook. "I wish someone would help. I pray for someone who can save them. I pray."

He stepped forward and knelt in the lake. His tears fell faster, each drop spreading a soft blackness laced with silver light. The darkness rippled outward, radiant and divine.

Damon stood frozen. He had not said anything sad. He had only spoken a truth he had accepted long ago. Yet Lazarak knelt before him, clutching his small hands against his chest, weeping for Damon.

Damon hesitated and slowly reached out. Before he could touch the tiny god, Lazarak's tears began to change the lake. The water responded to him, drawn to his sorrow. What began as scattered drops became a steady flow.

Something was being changed at its core.

Each tear carried sorrow, yet each one glowed, carrying hope with it.

This was the difference between a god and a demon.

Hope and despair.

A god was born to create and give hope.

A demon's nature was desire.

Damon watched the lake shrink. Water that was not part of Lazarak's tears evaporated or dissolved into nothing. The lake continued to collapse until only a pond remained beneath the golden trunk of the great tree. Its red canopy cast a dark cover over the transformed water.

This was Lazarak's lake of tears.

The Lake of Tears.

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