Those who were blessed by the tears became Saints, following Phelmacitia’s image and having their emotions stripped away. 

They became mercenaries for the faith, taking care of rogue demons and those who came to the cathedral for help. That’s… what Lark was scared of. Becoming a Saint and leaving his life behind, losing himself only for a God he didn’t believe in to take everything. He only wished to live the rest of his life here with his sheep and family, in these mountains he held close to his heart. Rolling over onto his side and covering himself with a blanket, Lark willed himself to drift off to sleep.

…

Lark’s mother, Winter, was a kind woman. Boisterous and opinionated, if not unimaginably stubborn. Sasha got more of her looks while Lark got their father’s, but that means Lark got the gene of wanting to go galavanting off into the mountains to forage and explore. It worried his mother fiercely, which had its own pros and cons. He appreciated her concern, but sometimes it was the worst thing about her. Like now for instance.

“I told you that I don’t want to do this, ma.”

“Your father didn’t have Phelmacitia’s protection and look what happened! He died in the mountains. Didn’t even get his body back.” Winter pointed up to the earth that cut into the landscape like perfect puzzle pieces, their tall peaks splitting the sky. Lark held them in high regard, just as comforting as his room at home, but she had transformed them into a blighted place to avoid.

Now they were arguing in the back lawn, since Lark wanted to make sure the sheep would be cozy in the barn for the day. Sasha stood off to the side, nursing a small newborn sheep with a bottle. It purred happily in her arms.

“He was just stupid! He didn’t take precautions. It wasn’t because he was walking around without some God’s protection.” Lark’s voice was snappy. He didn’t like belittling something his mother held so dear to her heart, but she could be so unreasonable sometimes.

“I just… I don’t want you to go into those mountain passes with nothing there watching you.” His mother’s tone turned sad and Lark could tell she was dripping with anxiety. She let him do as he pleased all his life, but with this… It was so important that he was safe… From the elements that be and from the faith itself. It made Lark’s heart sting.

She also didn’t want some people who didn’t even know him to potentially force him into this decision. Winter was a mother first and foremost, and cared for the family that remained more than anything. Losing his father had almost ruined her. Sasha was right in the regard it was the rarest occurrence possible to be made a Saint if you didn’t reach out. Their mother hesitantly hugged him around the middle in a comforting gesture. He hugged back tightly, feeling her shoulders relax.

Lark’s love for his mother was immeasurable. She was strong and bright and loving. So much so almost to a fault, but… 

“Alright, let's go. Take me to this stupid pool.” He put on a teasing tone to hide his discomfort; his mother looked up at him with tear-stained eyes. 

“Really? I’m sorry, Lark… this isn’t what you want at all…”

“This is for you to know I’m safe in your own way.” Wiping away a tear, Lark smiled. “Not like anything else happens besides getting a bath of cold water.”