Beneath the ruins of a forgotten Earth, an ancient Garden stirs — and it remembers everything.
When botanist Evelyn Marrow falls through a fracture in the land, she finds herself in a living memory: an underground world where plants are sentient, grief breathes through the soil, and humanity’s forgotten sins bloom like poisonous flowers. Haunted by personal loss and burdened with guilt, Evelyn must journey through landscapes of sorrow, hope, rage, and wonder — facing the Garden’s deepest trials and her own broken heart.
As the roots awaken and the surface world trembles, Evelyn must make an impossible choice: sacrifice herself to heal the world she once gave up on, or carry the memory back to a future that may still be saved.
Lyrical, emotional, and profoundly hopeful, The Garden Beneath the World is a portal fantasy for anyone who has ever grieved, loved, and dared to believe in second chances.
A breathtaking exploration of resilience, remembrance, and the green breath of life returning after loss.
If you listen carefully, you can still hear it —
The Garden is breathing.
5.0 out of 5 stars Gem of a book, must read for nature lovers!
Reviewed in the United States on July 4, 2025
Verified Purchase
This book reminds us that grief and hope are two sides of the same coin. It’s for anyone who has lost, loved, and dared to believe in second chances. The Garden is waiting, and if you listen closely… it’s still breathing.
Prologue: The Breathing Earth
They say grief is like a storm. But for Evelyn Marrow, it was silence.
Not the kind that comforts. Not the hush of soft snowfall or the tranquil quiet between two lovers in a shared bed. This was the kind of silence that devours. It nestled in the pit of her chest like black loam — heavy, fertile, and ominously lifeless.
She used to believe in things. In the fragile magic of chloroplasts, the intricate genius of roots weaving beneath the earth, and the way a wounded forest could recover if given time and protection. In the delicate, almost sacred contract forged between humanity and the Earth.
Then Lina died.
Seven years old. Sweet as honeysuckle. A child who adored wildflowers more than any doll, who would lie among the petals, whispering to a sunflower and convincing herself it whispered back. Lina had wheezed for months, struggling against the oppressive gray sky thick with industry. The city’s pollution reports arrived too late — or perhaps Evelyn had chosen to see them too late. A grievous miscalculation in a world already teetering on the edge of catastrophe.
And now there was no more daughter. No more husband. Only Evelyn, a ghost haunting her own existence; the lab she no longer entered stood as a mausoleum to her ambitions, while her apartment, brimming with air purifiers, became a tomb of failed hopes.
So when the invitation arrived — to join a final survey of a condemned forest in the Northern Basin — she found herself saying yes.
It wasn’t courage. It wasn’t duty. It was a whisper from deep within her bones. Or perhaps it was the Earth itself, extending a palm and beckoning her back.
They reached the forest by drone shuttle, the sleek technology a jarring contrast to the ancient life waiting below.
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Spanish
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Lucas Foix
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