The thief had also been tossed ragdoll-like against the opposite wall, which wasn't any softer than the bookcase had been for Solomon. One hand crossed across his abdomen; he was sure he'd cracked a rib or two and his expression reflected that pain. Sharp pieces of the khajbit swarmed around him, acting like hungry wolves darting in to rip at the edges of his unprotected soul. It wasn't the first time he'd lost control of the shadows and paid the price for it, but it had been a while and it hurt.

The shadows thickened, almost frenzied and across his soul something shredded. Bakura couldn't stop a low groan that ended in a hiss as he waited for the khajbit to find its equilibrium again. "Stay back," he forced out to Solomon.