Bartimaeus had always prided himself in his memory and his wit. His memory was immaculate, and his wit was sharp enough to cut through his enemies (quite literally in some cases.)

He made it through many things he should have died from, through a combination of his quick thinking and his luck. Although there were many times where he thought it would be the end, he always managed to scrape through. Even though the odds were always stacked against him, he was somehow able to beat his enemies.

For much of his existence, he was well aware of this. He was proud of it. After all, another enemy down was just another thing to add to his boasts. He simply accepted the mentality that his life will always come first. He was content with the thought that he would never have to worry about anyone's life other than his own.

.

That's why Ptolemy's death hurt so much.

.

The realization that his life had so little worth compared to Ptolemy's.

The weight of knowing how unfair it was that Ptolemy had so little time.

The agonizing feeling of knowing that it was his fault Ptolemy died.

It's all his fault.

He knew that the mark Ptolemy made will never fade. He didn't want it to fade.

He would never forget the joy Ptolemy brought into his life. Every little tired smile, all of the pages and pages of writing, and the fits of uncontrollable laughter. Every moment mattered. Perhaps too much.

He had always laughed at humans who clung on so desperately to loved ones deaths.

He always thought of them as being foolish. After all, their lives are so short and insignificant anyways. He didn't understand why it mattered. He never 'cried' about the deaths of his fellow spirits, and they were much more powerful than any pathetic human.

That's what he thought was important. Power.

.

'There is no life worth turning someone into a blubbering mess. Can't they at least hold it together and have some dignity? If that's even possible for a human that is.'

He was foolish. Frivolous.

He didn't know any better.

...

But now he did.

He knew the truth.

.

.

.

He lived while others died.