With a resounding boom, the doors slammed open, and Twilight let her magic dissipate. Alone, one lonely shadow in the hall of the ancients, she stepped forward into a great hallway. The room flew out away from her for over two hundred feet, and above her a great domed ceiling reached toward the heavens, making the unicorn feel so impossibly small, an ant in the home of giants. Twilight could make out faint murals on the roof, faded from time. She could see the sun and the moon; she could see the entire celestial cohort as it shone against a black and endless void; she could see clouds of light that swirled around great shapes in the darkness, forming, shaping, and she could see worlds, plains of steel-blue grass and mountains higher than any in Earth today.