Almost four years ago I wrote a story called "Death's Messengers." It was a complicated story with many characters and a very strange universe. I completed it, and I am happy to say that it was well-received. I always meant to create a sequel, but life has a habit of getting in the way of such things, and it never happened. I have had the occasional review to remind me that this story is still being read, and I have finally decided that I should continue where I left off.

The original story, Death's Messengers, can be found in my profile.

And I will also provide a short recap since it really has been a long time:

Prologue:

The world is alive. As long as life has floated in the oceans, crawled across the land, flown through the air, the Earth has been alive. At first the world had no name; it was simply a quiet presence, living and changing. As the life on the world became more sophisticated, so did the spirit of the world. No one will ever know when the Earth became the Earth, or when the Earth began to think of itself as something. No one will ever know when Gaia was truly born. Very few even know of Gaia, and fewer still have heard her voice.

Death is not final on this world; death is simply a step closer to knowing Gaia. Before the world became complex, it had been easy to bring life back into the heart of the earth. When a tiny rat died, it went to Gaia without question and became part of her. The cycle was a simple one and it was one that the creatures of the world fulfilled without hesitation. Then, creatures were born that understood who they were. Creatures were born that thought about death, feared it, and feared Gaia. So it came to pass that Gaia created a world for these creatures; a world where they could rest and be happy. The world was created out of compassion and kindness, and it was to be Gaia's gift to her creatures.

The spirit of the Earth is not omnipotent, and Gaia soon came to realize that her gift was not a perfect one. The creatures that came there were frightened, confused, and alone. She had not understood them completely, and she had made a mistake.

Gaia immediately sought to resolve her error. She brought together a few of the people who had already arrived in her world and spoke to them. They were terrified at first, but eventually they came to understand who she was and what was happening. She appointed a group of them to be messengers; they would travel to the world of the living, find those who were about to pass beyond, and guide them to their destination. They were to make the journey easier; they would guide the way.

They called themselves Reapers, and their leader was to be the Siyem, the strongest and most powerful of them all. Three hundred and sixty-five Reapers were created, each ranking differently in power, all the way down to the weakest, the Wiyem.

Gaia had created them and given them rules, and then stepped back and allowed them to do their solemn work. She would speak only to the Siyem from that point on, and upon the retirement or death (for the mystery of the oblivion that followed death was well-known and feared) of a Reaper, future messengers would be chosen by the group. Gaia would only choose the Siyem and the Wiyem, all other Reapers would be elected.

The Reapers were governed by a strict set of rules that Gaia ensured were obeyed. They could not kill, except in self-defense, neither the living beings of the earth nor the dead "demons" of the afterlife, as they tended to call themselves. The Reapers could not travel to the world of the living unless they were performing their messenger duties. The Reapers could not collect the energy of any vanquished demon, should the situation ever arise, for when a demon is sent to oblivion, its power can be harnessed and contained by the one who destroyed it. Even if a Reaper kills in self-defense, that Reaper must allow the demon's power to escape. The Reapers also could not fight or destroy one another, and the only way for any demon to ever kill a Reaper is to die itself, and generally it takes far, far more than one demon to kill even the weakest Reaper. Thus these rules governed Death's Messengers throughout the eons, keeping peace in the world of the dead and maintaining balance.

Until something went wrong.

Something, or perhaps someone, discovered how to suppress Gaia's power and change the rules. The Reapers could run rampant, killing and gaining power, and many of them did, led by the second and third most powerful of them all, Reapers known as Ssylvar and Orgo. Each of them had been Reapers for many years and had chafed under the restrictions imposed upon their immense power. They secretly arranged to have the Siyem who led them murdered and sent to oblivion. It was this act that set into motion the events which brought an unlikely character into the story. It is Gaia who chooses the Siyem, the strongest Reaper, and with the old Siyem murdered, it was time to choose another. The chosen one was Donatello, the humble and peaceful mutant turtle from the New York sewers.

Because of the urgent need for a Siyem, it was deemed that Donatello must die early to assume the title. He was killed by Ssylvar in an alley late one night, his body left for his brothers to find the next day. Donatello was shocked by what had happened to him, and even more shocked to find that Ssylvar appeared to be some sort of snake-man. Sslyvar then took Donatello, somewhat forcefully, to the demon world, where he began to explain to the baffled turtle what was going on.

Eventually Donatello accepted his situation and gained the title of Siyem. He was assigned a teacher, someone to show him how to use the powerful magic at his disposal. This teacher was meant to be the Wiyem, but the man refused. The next above him, a young, dour woman known as Shayl, was given the task.

Donatello was pitifully bad at the magic, always wanting to understand it and thus failing at creating it.

While he could not learn the magic he needed to know, Donatello soon learned that in the demon world, anything is possible, and everyone gets to choose how they look and what they can do. Any job, any appearance, any life can be achieved in this world. He also discovered that people were very happy.

Sadly, the happiness was soon to end, as Ssylvar and Orgo swiftly put their plans into action. Gaia's power was suppressed, and the rules which governed the Reapers were lifted. They quickly took over, forcing Donatello into hiding. Ssylvar and Orgo used Donatello's family against him, corrupting Leonardo and Raphael into thinking Don was an impostor. Michelangelo was killed, only to find out, to his amazement, that he was to be the new Wiyem, as the previous one had been murdered by Ssylvar and Orgo.

Eventually, after much fighting and bloodshed, Donatello and his friends were able to overcome the evil Reapers and restore Gaia's power. She rewarded them, giving the turtles their family back and allowing them to live together once more, despite their deaths. Each of them had been imbued with strength and would always retain it, but they were forbidden by Gaia to use it to kill. It was her strength, and Gaia was life, not death.

Chapter 1

"Raph! Stop it!"

"You wish!"

"Ow! Come on, stop that!" Michelangelo was starting to get angry. Another pan flew from the kitchen and smashed him in the face. He had given up trying to evade the flying dishes, as Raph was simply throwing them too fast to duck away from them all.

"I'm going to keep throwing these," Raph said, pausing to throw a plate, "Until you admit," a pizza pan this time, "That the Jets are better," a steak knife! "Than the Giants!"

Michelangelo sighed. If anyone else was home this would not be happening. Raph only picked on him when no one was around because pretty much everyone else could stop him. As it was, Michelangelo was the weakest of them all, and Raphael loved nothing more than to remind him of that fact. Raph also knew that Michelangelo would never take any real damage from his tirades (other than a brief trip back to the demon world) so he continued to torment his brother. Of course, it didn't help that Mike was always doing his best to irritate and egg Raphael on. He just could not help it; he lived to be irritating.

"I'm sorry Raph," Mike said, ducking away from another steak knife, "But I know death," he shrugged, grinned, "And let me tell you, the Jets are pretty dead!" Mike ducked from the onslaught of cutlery he knew was coming. He could barely hear the sound of someone clearing their throat in irritation over the clatter. Mike turned quickly to see Leonardo standing behind him, holding a sauce pan.

"What is going on?" he said, his voice betraying his annoyance.

"Er…." Mike said, "Well um, me and Raph were jus-"

"We were just cleaning the kitchen," Raphael interrupted, coming into the den. "Thought it was time to get some new dishes."

"Uh-huh," Leonardo said, crossing his arms, "While it may be nice to have new china, I think you two had better clean this up since none of us will be waltzing into a pottery barn any time soon!"

Leo turned on his heel and stalked out, Raphael making a rude guesture to his back. Then, the turtle in red grinned at Mike and left.

Michelangelo sighed and began picking up dishes. His mind wandered as he did so, thinking about everything that had happened to him in the last few months. He'd already been on his Reaper mission for the year, and it had been pretty uneventful, as bringing the dead to the afterlife goes. Don was away on his week of service now, and Mike truly wished he would get back. There was always much less fighting in the lair when his passive brother was around.

Raphael and Leonardo had not really adapted to their newfound strength in a way Michelangelo would have liked. Raph tended to use it for bullying, while Leo was always holding back, afraid of what he could do. It was affecting his training, and it was affecting his morale.

At least Splinter hadn't changed. His master was as solid and dependable as ever, and Mike found himself spending far more time with the old rat than he used to. Mike couldn't deny that he had also changed. He still liked to joke and he still wanted to have as much fun as he possibly could, but he knew things now that he never could have dreamed of before. He had power and responsibility and he was daunted by it. It was this fear that brought him to Splinter's side more often than not. He needed the wisdom of his master to support him when the fear became too much.

Mike had originally tried to confide in Donatello, but he quickly found that his brother was even more strained than he was. Mike couldn't blame him; Donatello was probably the most powerful being on the planet, aside from Gaia, and he was also the least likely to want that power. Don had never wanted to be the Siyem, and that was precisely why Gaia had chosen him for the job.

Mike sighed and continued to put away pots and pans, plates and cutlery. He would eventually learn how to deal with his new life, but right now it just downright stunk. He wanted things to be the way they were before Don died, before the world had almost ended. He felt immense devotion and love for Gaia, and he knew that she had chosen him for this role and that he would do his best for her, but he was scared as hell of his power and he wasn't about to deny that.

The weakest Reaper is the Wiyem, but Michelangelo knew that he was not weak. He knew that his power was important, and he knew that his power had already saved the world once. He sincerely hoped, prayed even, that he would never have to do it again.

----

"Look sir, you really can't stay here. There is a concrete truck on top of your body."

"I ain't leavin!"

Donatello sighed. Sometimes the dead just would not cooperate.

"You really have to come with me," Donatello said, crossing his arms, "I will make you come with me if I have to."

A middle aged man stood in front of Donatello, his stubble-covered chin stuck out defiantly towards the frustrated turtle.

"I….ain't….leavin!" The man said, spitting each word at the turtle, flecks of ethereal saliva coming to his lips. Donatello sighed, unfolded his arms, and conjured a large flaming sword in his right hand. A black cloak appeared over his body, obscuring his face. A black film of smoke fell from the cloak, curling out towards the defiant man, grasping at him with tiny hands.

"YOU WILL COME WITH ME," Donatello said, his voice booming and double-toned. The man backed away, inadvertently moving away from his own body in the process. Donatello continued to herd him further from the body, until the man no longer thought about anything but the frightening being in front of him. Sighing inwardly, Don reached out with lightning speed and grabbed the man by the upper arm. He then dragged the man, screaming bloody murder, through a portal and into the world of the dead.

Several hours later, Donatello collapsed onto the couch of his demon-world home, formerly Shayl's home, which Donatello chose to live in and preserve as a way to honor his friend. He occasionally felt a pang of regret for changing anything around in the tiny house, but he also knew that Shayl would have wanted him to use it for a practical purpose.

He spent several minutes composing himself; it had been a very long week with many headaches. Most of the souls he had gone to collect had been reluctant to return with him, despite his best efforts. Donatello was a very compassionate Reaper, and because he was the Siyem he had gone with many of the other Reapers for some of their trips. A good portion of them were new and he had wanted to make sure they were comfortable in their position.

This week, though, the souls had been restless. They did not want to come with him and none of them specifically seemed to know why. Usually a reluctant soul had a reason for wanting to stay on Earth; they always had unresolved issues they wanted to deal with.

Not this week, and Donatello did not like it.

--You are troubled.--

Donatello started, Gaia's voice breaking him from his mental reverie.

"Yes," he said aloud, "Yes I am," he sighed, "Why are the souls reluctant to come with me? Why do they shy away from their messenger?"

There was a long pause, and Don became more nervous as he waited. Finally, Gaia spoke.

--I am sorry my son, but I do not know why they have fear. I have spent many days trying to understand where it comes from, but I have not found the answer.--

Donatello rubbed his eyes, feeling fatigue that was mental, rather than physical. He could not feel physical fatigue in the demon realm.

"I'm worried about it," Donatello said, "Maybe I'm just paranoid…"

--No, you are right to be concerned. This problem could be rather serious, I'm afraid.-- Gaia said, --I will do my best to find out the reason. You, my son, must continue to maintain the balance in spite of this difficulty.--

Don nodded, his face drawn and worried, "I'll do what I can," he said, but he could feel the doubt gnawing at his insides, eating away at him. He had done great things once, because he was forced to. Now he was just a quiet turtle with the world on his shoulders.

A candle stood on the table next to him. Donatello watched it with his head resting on his hand, watched the flame dance and move. He could see it shift slightly, reacting to the minute changes in the air surrounding the flame. He exhaled and watched it dance more rapidly. As he stared at the candle, Donatello wondered if he was the wind or the flame.