The Cobra of Smoke - The Burden of Sight

Chapter 7

At the end of their shift, as dawn began to lighten the eastern sky, they stood together in the parking lot. Shantali hesitated before getting into her car.

"David, about these last few days... I'm sorry I shut you out."

He leaned against her car door, his expression serious. "Promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Next time you see a mystical smoke creature with prophetic powers, you'll tell me right away instead of spiraling into ancient Egyptian research rabbit holes alone?"

She laughed, the sound carrying in the crisp morning air. "I promise."

As she drove home, the city awakening around her, Shantali thought about Dr. Thorne's final warning and the path not taken. The mystery of the serpent smoke would always leave a mark on her life but it was meant to be learnt from, not to obsess over. If anything she felt nothing but gratitude towards the smoke cobra as it showed her the cost of her fear and the price was to high something she wasn’t willing to pay.

If she ever came across the smoke cobra again she was going to thank it for giving her the clarity that she needed right when she needed it the most.

In her apartment, the day stretched before her like an uncharted map. Sleep tugged at her consciousness, but her mind buzzed with too much energy for rest. Shantali opened her laptop and began a new document, typing "The Serpent's Gift" at the top of the page. If she couldn't return to the research librarian's knowing eyes just yet, she could at least organize what she'd learned.

Under the soft glow of her desk lamp, she documented everything—the initial encounter, the visions, the research findings, and finally, the shared experience with David. Writing it down felt like drawing poison from a wound, each word diminishing the obsession's power over her.

When she finally crawled into bed, sunlight streamed through her blinds, painting golden stripes across her comforter. Her phone buzzed with a text from David: *Sleep well. Dream of apartments with balconies and bookshelves. Love you.*

For the first time since encountering the cobra, Shantali slept without dreams of smoke or prophecy.

She woke to late afternoon shadows and the realization that in less than three hours, she'd be sitting across from David at Bellini's, watching candlelight play across his face as they discussed their future together. The thought brought a smile rather than the dread she'd felt yesterday.

Her phone showed a missed call from her brother, Marcus. She'd been avoiding him too, knowing his scientific mind would immediately jump to neurological explanations and possibly mandatory psychiatric evaluations. But now, with clarity restored, she returned his call.

"Finally," Marcus answered, his doctor's voice tinged with relief. "David called me. He said you've been having a rough week."

"I'm fine now," she said, surprised by how true it felt. "Just went through something... unusual."

"Unusual how?" His tone sharpened with professional concern.

Shantali considered telling him everything, then decided against it. Some experiences defied medical explanation, and she didn't need her brother's validation to trust what she'd witnessed.

"Just some intense dreams and work stress. But I've sorted it out." She paused, then added, "David and I are moving in together."

The silence on the other end spoke volumes about his surprise. Marcus had always been protective, especially after their parents died, and he'd made no secret of thinking she and David were moving too fast.

"That's... a big step," he finally said. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I've never been more certain of anything," she replied, thinking of the cobra's visions—not as prophecy now, but as possibility. "Sometimes you just know."

After promising to meet for lunch next week, she hung up and began preparing for her dinner date. The dress she chose was deep emerald—deliberate, since white felt too loaded with prophetic significance for tonight.

As she applied her makeup, Shantali studied her reflection. The woman looking back at her seemed different somehow—not just rested, but

grounded in a way she hadn't felt in months. The frantic energy that had driven her to the library, to ancient texts and electromagnetic readings, had settled into something steadier. Purpose, perhaps, or simply peace.

At Bellini's, David was already waiting at their usual corner table, the one with a view of the fountain and enough privacy for intimate conversation. He stood when he saw her, his face lighting up with the kind of smile that made her understand why the cobra had shown her hospital vigils and shared Sunday mornings. This was worth protecting.

"You look beautiful," he said, pulling out her chair. "But more than that, you look... present."

She settled into her seat, appreciating his observation. "I feel present. For the first time in days."

The waiter brought wine; David had already ordered their favourite Chianti bottle, and they began talking about apartment layouts and neighbourhood coffee shops. Normal, beautiful, ordinary things that felt miraculous after her brush with obsession.

"There's something I need to tell you," David said as their entrees arrived. "About last night, what we saw together..."

Shantali tensed slightly, wondering if daylight had brought scepticism to what they'd witnessed.

"I've been thinking about it all day," he continued, cutting into his salmon. "And I realised something. Whatever that was—supernatural, environmental, psychological—it brought us together instead of driving us apart. That feels like the important part."

Relief flooded through her. "I was worried you'd convince yourself it was a shared hallucination or something."

"Maybe it was." He shrugged, reaching across the table to touch her hand. "But it helped you make a decision about us, about your future. If hallucinations can do that, maybe we need more of them."

She laughed, thinking of Dr. Thorne's warnings about the price of pursuing mysteries. "I think one prophetic smoke serpent is enough for a lifetime."

"Probably wise." David's expression grew more serious. "Tali, I need you to know—whatever happens with us, whatever challenges we face, I'm not going anywhere. That hospital corridor you saw? Your family crises become my family crises. That's what partnership means."