Yin then turned his attention to the sealed gate at the end of the hall. He walked towards it, the runes on its surface flaring with desperate, dying light, trying and failing to repel him.
He placed a hand on the cold, ancient surface. "It's time to come home," he whispered.
The gate did not open. It dissolved. The powerful seals unraveled into nothingness before his touch.
From within the revealed darkness, a figure stepped out. It was Yin. Another Yin. This one looked exactly like him, but his aura was slightly different—wilder, more chaotic, filled with the rage and frustration of endless imprisonment.
This Yin looked at the free Yin standing before him. There was no surprise, only a deep, ancient hunger.
"Has the time come?" the newly freed Yin asked, his voice a hoarse echo of the other.
The original Yin smiled. "It has."
