Whispers of the White Feast

In the heart of the ancient village of Liangshan, nestled between towering mountains and the whispering winds of the Yellow River, there was a tale told from generation to generation. It was a tale of a white feast, a celebration that marked the end of the harvest season, but one that carried a dark secret.

The villagers spoke of the White Feast with a mix of reverence and fear. It was said that on the eve of the feast, the spirits of the departed would come alive, mingling with the living. The feast was a time of great joy and feasting, but it was also a time when the line between the living and the dead blurred, and the revenants—those who had risen from the grave—walked among them.

Xia, a young girl with eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the ages, lived in Liangshan. Her mother had passed away when she was but a child, and she was raised by her father, a man who had seen the worst of the White Feast's mysteries. He had sworn to protect Xia from the revenants, but as the time of the White Feast approached, he knew that this year would be different.

The village elder, an ancient figure with a long beard that seemed to touch the ground, gathered the villagers in the central square. "The White Feast is upon us," he began, his voice echoing through the crowd. "This year, the spirits are restless. We must prepare for the worst."

Xia's father, a man of few words, began to prepare the feast. He knew the ritual, the incantations, and the offerings that would keep the revenants at bay. But as the night fell and the feast began, a sense of dread settled over the village.

The elder, with a voice that carried the weight of the ages, recited the ancient incantations, his voice a stark contrast to the laughter and chatter of the villagers. The air grew thick with the scent of food and the distant sound of the river.

Xia, standing by her father, watched as the first of the revenants appeared. They were shadows at first, indistinguishable from the darkness of the night, but then they took form, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.

The elder's voice rose above the din, "Do not fear, for we have prepared. The feast is a sacrifice, and the spirits will be appeased."

But as the night wore on, the revenants grew bolder. They began to move among the tables, their touch cold and unyielding. The villagers, once full of cheer, now trembled in their seats, their faces contorted with fear.

Xia's father, his face etched with lines of concern, whispered to her, "You must go, Xia. You must leave the village before the worst comes."

But Xia, her heart bound to the village and its people, refused to leave. She knew that if she ran, the revenants would follow, and the village would be doomed.

The elder, his voice breaking, turned to Xia. "You must go, Xia. You are the only one who can stop this."

Xia, her resolve strengthened by her love for her father and the village, stepped forward. She raised her hands, her eyes closing as she began to chant the incantations she had heard her father recite countless times.

The revenants, sensing her power, turned towards her. They were drawn to her like moths to a flame, their eyes fixated on her as she chanted.

Xia's father, his eyes wide with fear, stepped between her and the revenants. "No, Xia! You must not!"

But Xia, her voice rising above the din, continued to chant. The revenants, now swarming around her, began to recede, their forms dissolving into the night.

The elder, his face alight with hope, stepped forward. "You have done it, Xia. You have saved us."

Xia, her eyes still closed, felt the power surge through her. She opened her eyes to see the revenants gone, the village safe once more.

The elder, his voice trembling with emotion, turned to Xia's father. "You have raised a true hero."

Xia's father, tears streaming down his face, nodded. "She is my daughter, and she has proven herself."

The White Feast ended that night with a sense of relief and gratitude. The villagers, once again safe from the revenants, celebrated Xia's bravery. But Xia knew that the White Feast was not the end of the legend. She had saved the village, but the revenants would return, and she would be there to face them once more.

The White Feast's Resurrection had come, but it had not been the end. It was a beginning, a tale of courage and sacrifice that would be told for generations to come.