He was standing in a massive, underground cathedral made of twisting, golden-brown pillars. The air smelled of damp earth and life. Above him, a voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You seek the answers, little botanist?"
The scene shifted. He was suddenly high in the air, surrounded by the emerald green of a leaf's interior. Sunlight felt like a physical warmth, and he saw tiny gates opening and closing—the stomata. He watched the plant breathe, trading gases with the wind. "Structure determines function," a chorus of cells sang. He was standing in a massive, underground cathedral
"The root is the anchor," the Great Root whispered. "We hold the earth so the world doesn't blow away. We drink the hidden rivers so the leaves can touch the sun." He was standing in a massive