It's what Ventnor meant when he said to strike through the sun.

And we've lost the chance--" Louder grew the hurricane without; and now within began its mate.
Through the mists flashed linked tempests of lightnings.

Bolt upon javelin bolt, and ever more thickly; lightnings green as the mists themselves; lightning bolts of destroying violets, searing scarlets; tearing chains of withering yellows, globes of exploding multicolored electric incandescences.
The crater was threaded with the lightnings of the Metal People; was broidered with them; was a Pit woven with vast and changing patterns of electric flame.
What was it that Drake had said?
That if but we could have known we could have destroyed these--Things--Destroyed--Them?
Things that could thrust their will and power up through ninety million miles of space and suck from the sun the honey of power! Drain it and hive it within these great mountains of the cones! Destroy Things that could feed their own life into a machine to draw back from the sun a greater life--Things that could forge of their strength a spear which, piercing the side of the sun, sent gushing back upon them a tenfold, nay, a thousandfold strength! Destroy this City that was one vast and living dynamo feeding upon the magnetic life of earth and sun! The clamor had grown stupendous, destroying--like armored Gods roaring at sword play in a hundred Valhallas; like the war drums of battling universe; like the smitings of warring suns.
And all the City was throbbing, beating with a gigantic pulse of life--was fed and drunken with life.

I felt that pulsing become my own; I echoed to it; throbbed in unison.

I saw Drake outlined in flame; that around me a radiant nimbus was growing.
I thought I saw Norhala floating, clothed in shouting, flailing fires.