'A hundred of Tarvitz’s loyalists remained. They were the only survivors of their glorious last stand, and he had gathered them in the remains of the Warsingers’ Temple – Sons of Horus, Emperor’s Children, and even a few lost-looking World Eaters. Tarvitz noticed that there were no Death Guard in their numbers, thinking that perhaps a few had survived Mortarion’s scouring of the trenches, but knowing that they might as well have been on the other side of Isstvan III.

This was the end. They all knew it, but none of them gave voice to that fact. He knew all their names now. Before, they had just been grime-streaked faces among the endless days and nights of battle, but now they were brothers, men he would die with in honour.'
Flashes of explosions bloomed in the city’s north. Shooting stars punched through the dark clouds overhead, scorching holes through which the glimmering stars could be seen. The stars shone down on the Coral City in time to watch the city die.

‘Did we hurt them, captain? asked Solathen. ‘Did this mean anything?’

Tarvitz thought for a moment before replying.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we hurt them here. They’ll remember this.”

A bomb blasted into the presenter's palce, finally blasting what little remained of its great stone foundation into flames, shards, and granite. The Loyalists did not throw themselves into cover or run for shelter, there was little point. The Warmaster was bombarding the city he was thorough. he would not let them slip away a second time.
Towers of flames bloomed all across the palace, closing in on them with fiery inevitability.
The battle of the Coral City was over.