Project Solith encompasses two bodies of work underneath the same conceptual universe, one being a fantasy world built for roleplaying campaigns and RPG settings, and the other being a sci-fi novel.

Solar Lament is a fictional sci-fi novel that explores two worlds in an inside-out universe, from the perspectives of two different individuals. The story flips back and forth between these two individuals to tell a story of technology, divinity, and the passage of time. Found below is a brief prologue, as well as a passage from a chapter that sets the stage
for the worldbuilding of this narrative. The novel is expected to be finished in 2026.

Prologue

You wish to know of the Universe, little one? Go bring me your little toy, the porcelain
doll.

Perfect, now come take a seat with me. You might not believe me, but this little doll is
like the Universe we live in - or at the very least, it's close to what we know about. Look
at what you see when you take the top off of the doll. There's another doll inside,
right? And inside that one, there's another doll, too. Inside of that one? Another
smaller doll. And it keeps going!

Our Universe is big. Much bigger than anything you would ever see outside. But just
like your little stacking dolls, the lands in our universe are all nestled inside of each
other, one hollow body following the previous. Some are made of rock and dirt, and
other stuff, like the land we live on. Other bodies are bright, and made of powerful
energy, like the star that gives us light. Yes, even that one is hollow too - who knows
what is inside it?

We know all this, and yet, we've never actually seen the lands above or below us. The
Faithful Solith shows us how it is, yet still we can only guess what could be out there.
Could there be people like us above, living as neighbors to the star we adore? Or
could there be people below, embracing lands we could only imagine? Truly, the rest of
the Universe is a mystery - and I am just as curious as you to know what lies beyond
our home.

One day, if the Faithful Solith wills it for us, some light will fall upon the mystery of the
Universe. I'm getting old, and might not be able to see the day it happens.

But you?

Little one, the Universe might make itself known to you in your lifetime. And if the
opportunity comes to you, I hope you'll chase it.
 

Chapter Passage 

 “Ancient Star, Show Us Who You Are”

“Ancient Star, Near Yet Oh So Far”

“Ancient Star, Shining Through The Breach”

“Ancient Star, Whose Life Is Out of Reach”

Everybody knows the beginning of the performance. Amidst the darkened
outdoor theatre, the voices of the people sing out, though not as loud as the
members of the masked choir, who manipulate the lyrics and bring the words to
life. The stage is empty and the lights and music are nowhere to be found, yet
this flourish of voice is the one that sticks with people the most each year. To be
able to afford and attend the long performance passed down throughout the
ages has its own merit, but to have the chance to help give life to the words with
the choir is special in its own right. The four lines resonate as the Prelude, and as
the last breaths of the crowd draw it to a close, the stage begins to light up, and
the choir begins its transformation into the unspoken tongue of the Genesis.

“Vi'l Rut-Trov, Ees Darvec Hirdra'cto Voor”

A man wearing a tan and ashen cloak steps onto the stage from behind the
curtain. The stage, now faintly lit, is littered with a mess of rubble, vines, and dirt.
The cloaked man steps cautiously around the rubble, seeming lost.

“Vi'l Mer-Trov, Voor Mihclee Ees Obna'cra”

The man trips and stumbles over, but crawls forward. A faint purple light shines
onto the stage in front of the man in a small circle, highlighting a small section of
stacked rubble.

“Vi'l Rut-Qur, Ahtri-Slo Wet Na'ti Bedrec”

He digs at the rubble, and pulls out a dusty, but vibrantly-colored tome. He flips
through, and lifts the hood of his cloak from his head. His eyes are open wide, and
his mouth is agape, yet still smiling.

“Vi'l Mer-Qur, Ees Na'ti Urpet Ste-Cyev”

He closes the book, and looks to the sky. He puts his hands behind his back, and
murmurs up to the clouds. Then, he snatches the book back up, holds it close to
his chest, and walks behind the curtain of the stage, before the lights fade to
black. Despite being words of the unspoken tongue, members of the crowd echo
the last verse sung by the choir, knowing not of the full verse's meaning, but only
that of the final words: "Na'ti Urpet Ste-Cyev - Chronicle Of Tomorrow."

As if taking in the life from the crowd's murmurs, a deep, yet gentle voice reaches
out in the darkness, ready to transition from the Genesis to the Chronology.
"Since ages long past, the Chronicle, blessed upon us by the Ancient Star, has
granted us vision." The left side of the stage lights up, revealing the set has
changed. Old and malformed buildings from the Primeval Age stand in the
background, while wells and farms, along with a couple unclean farmers in robes,
line the stage. "When we had nothing, the Chronicle showed us how to sustain and
build communities."

The left portion of the stage fades to black, and the voice continues. "Since ages
long past, the Chronicle, blessed upon us by the Ancient Star, has granted us life."
The words give way for the middle of the stage to brighten next, showing slightly
cleaner people amongst more orderly and diverse buildings. Moving parts and
hints of basic machines and gear work can be seen sparsely. "When we had
something, the Chronicle showed us how to improve and make our civilizations
blossom."

The stage grows black once more, leaving space for the voice once again. "Since
ages long past, the Chronicle, blessed upon us by the Ancient Star, has granted
us freedom." The right part of the stage is flooded with light, revealing modern-
dressed people amidst machines and technology, some of which can be seen
intergrated into the clean and orderly background buildings themselves. "When
we had what we believed to be everything, the Chronicle showed us how to
perfect and surpass the limit of our collective imaginations."

The lights do not turn to black, but dim and shift to a faint, orange glow. From the
choir, a woman wearing a beautiful gray dress embroidered with purple flowers
slowly steps toward the stage. A faint sound of a stringed instrument starts to
play, followed by more, until all instruments build together and fall onto a single,
singing note. Then everything immediately stops, and the pretty, harmonius voice
of the woman, now standing on stage, sounds off throughout the theatre. The
focal part of the Chronology begins - a tale of the tome of the future, and how it
brought our society to where it is today.

The woman sings in the unspoken tongue once again. The stage begins to
constantly shift, morphing into visual depictions of her untranslated words. Unlike
the synopsis that was used as introduction, the woman guides the performance
slowly, and takes the theatre through the ages, only ever briefly pausing to take a
breath. History books have stated that performances of the Chronology from
many years ago could be measured in minutes, but revisions, additions, and
personal flourishes to the performance over the years made it more acceptable
to be measured in hours. It is no surprise that the woman singing presently must
have prepared long and hard for this moment - through ages of ruin, renovation,
and perfection, she does not falter; does not tire; does not fail to live up to her
duty. There is always an end, though, and as she draws her last breath to sing her
final notes of the Chronology, the crowd readies their hands to clap, having
listened intently to her voice for the last three hours. The woman gives a bow,
and rejoins the choir, ready to conclude the night with the Coda.

The voices start soft, and the music takes the same tone. The stage is once again
black, and the deep voice from earlier returns. "We thank you, Ancient Star, for
who we were. We thank you for who we are now. And we thank you for who we
are to be in the future. We thank you, so please, show us who you are!" The final
statement finds itself echoing amongst the theatre. The deep voice chants it. The
choir chants it. The crowd chants it.

*Ancient Star, Show Us Who You Are*

I look up above me, towards the planet that our own hollow sphere of ground
surrounds. Slowly but surely, it turns as it always has. As the chants fill the
theatre and direct themselves towards the celestial body, the cracks on the
planet slowly become visible. With the turning, comes the light, incredibly faint at
first, but slowly growing lighter in hue, until it is no longer night, but the beginning
of morning. Soon, I can see it. The cracks begin to give way and make space, until
they are more than just cracks.

The breach reveals itself, and inside, the Ancient Star shows, beginning another
day.