"Technically speaking, it isn't magic, per se," said Solomon, "though those who have magic tend to be better at it--magicians, Bakura calls them. It's more to do with the soul."

He spread his hands and the air between them darkened and became deep with shadow, but it wasn't the sort of shadow a Necromancer usually summoned. This looked out of reality and into another, the area wisped with purple edges. "It involves summoning monsters and spells from the khajbit--a kind of shadow plane. How well that happens, and whether or not it backfires on you, depends on the strength of your soul, your convictions, and your understanding of your self."

Solomon looked at Skulduggery up and down. "You would probably cause the world to implode. Or at least yourself. Bakura can summon from the khajbit, but the duel we held happened within it, and the khajbit ... does not like to be controlled. It tests you, even while you're fighting an opponent. It seeks out your greatest weaknesses and manifests them against you. And if you fail the test ..." He shrugged, closing his hands together to make the small portal close. "We never got that far. I took us out of the khajbit and into the death-plane, and that was the end of the duel."

Thankfully. Solomon still had no idea whether the choice he'd made was a winning or a losing one.