Chapter 6
1058 Words
"No," she whispered. "But what if the visions were warnings? What if something terrible happens and I could have prevented it?"
David's eyes held hers steadily. "Tali, even without mystical smoke serpents, we never know what the future holds. That's what makes each choice meaningful." He gestured around the gallery. "These artifacts have survived thousands of years, witnessing countless human lives with all their joys and tragedies. The only certainty is change."
As if responding to his words, the heating vent near by began spill what first looked like vapor but quickly be came thinker, darker like smoke and the smell of burning jasmine began to fill the air.
David's grip on her hand tightened as the scent intensified, his eyes widening as he witnessed what she'd tried to describe. The smoke didn't rise randomly—it moved with purpose, coiling upward in spirals that defied the gallery's air circulation patterns.
"Jesus," he breathed, but his voice held wonder rather than fear. "Tali, do you see—"
The smoke began to take shape, hood spreading wide, and those ember eyes materialized in the serpentine form. But this time, the cobra's gaze fell on both of them, and the visions came in a rush that made Shantali's knees buckle.
She saw herself packing boxes in David's apartment, laughing as he struggled to hang a crooked picture frame. She saw quiet Sunday mornings with coffee and newspapers spread across a shared table. She saw herself in a hospital corridor again, but now she understood—David's mother, recovering from surgery, both of them exhausted from the vigil but supporting each other through the crisis. The white dress vision flickered past, but softer now, David's hands steady as he helped her with the buttons, his eyes bright with joy rather than desperation.
And then the funeral scene, but clearer this time—an elderly man she didn't recognize, David's grandfather perhaps, and she saw herself standing beside David as he grieved, her hand on his shoulder, anchoring him through loss.
The visions weren't warnings of tragedy—they were glimpses of a life fully lived, with all its ordinary struggles and profound connections. The cobra's message wasn't about controlling the future, but about choosing to embrace it alongside someone who loved her.
"What do you see?" David whispered, his arm sliding around her waist as she swayed slightly.
"Us," she said simply. "I see us."
The smoke began to dissipate, but the cobra's ember eyes held hers for one final moment. In that gaze, she felt a strange sense of completion, as if some ancient contract had been fulfilled. The serpent had shown her what she needed to see—not to control her destiny, but to recognize it when it stood right beside her.
As the last wisps of jasmine-scented smoke faded into the ventilation system, David turned to face her fully. "Tali?"
"Yes," she said, before he could finish the question. "Yes, I'll move in with you."
His smile was radiant in the dim gallery lighting. "You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"You were going to ask if I was okay, if I understood what just happened, if I was ready to choose this life over chasing mysteries." She closed Dr. Thorne's journal and tucked it under her arm. "The answer to all of those is yes."
The sound of maintenance equipment echoed from the corridor—3 AM exactly. David glanced toward the noise, then back at her. "Should we tell them about the steam issue?"
Shantali looked at the silent vents, “No because from what I learned about the smoke cobra is for people that are at a cross road in their lives and its own way I think it wants to help them chose the right path the one of love however I might be one of the few that truly understand its purpose that once may have been different by priests and priestess receiving the messages who understood their true means it gets left to the receiver to understand on their own which leads to the obsession of wanting to learn more and control something that can not be controlled. Taking them away from everything that hold dear, especially those that they truly love.”
David squeezed her hand. "So you're saying the smoke cobra is some kind of ancient supernatural relationship counselor?"
The absurdity of it made her laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet gallery in a way that felt like release. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."
As maintenance workers' voices grew louder in the corridor, Shantali tucked Dr. Thorne's journal deeper into her bag. She would return it tomorrow, along with the other books. Their warnings had served their purpose, but she wouldn't follow the same obsessive path.
"We should get back to our patrol," she said, but didn't move, reluctant to leave the spot where everything had changed.
David nodded, his eyes still filled with wonder. "You know, in all my years working security, I've never seen anything like that. Do you think it will come back?"
"I don't think it needs to," Shantali replied, looking at the canopic jars one last time. "The cobra shows possible futures, but it's up to us to live them."
The maintenance crew rounded the corner, pushing carts of equipment and ladders. The lead technician nodded at them. "Evening, officers. We'll try to stay out of your way."
"Take your time," David said. "We're just finishing up here."
As they walked away from the Egyptian wing, Shantali felt lighter than she had in days. The visions remained in her memory, but they no longer haunted her with uncertainty. Instead, they felt like glimpses of a road map, not destinations she had to control.
"So," David said as they reached the Renaissance gallery, "does this mean you're still on for dinner tomorrow night?"
Shantali smiled, remembering the deleted calendar reminder. "Absolutely. Though I think we have some apartment hunting to plan now too."
"I was thinking about that two-bedroom in Riverside, the one with the balcony." His fingers laced through hers, warm and solid. "Plenty of room for your books and my terrible cooking experiments."
The image of their shared future unfolded in her mind, not as prophetic smoke but as genuine possibility. "It sounds perfect."
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