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The city was beautiful to him. Wind blew gently in his face, the breath of the city carried sounds of humanity to his ears, teasing him with colorful, intimate light that glowed with no warmth. He sniffed the air, hoping to find the fleeting scent of life that was cloaked in exhaust fumes and sweat. Hair tickled his face and he tilted his head back, letting the blonde bangs fall back from his forehead. He looked up at the stars, pinpoints so lovely yet born from such violence. It gave him comfort to know he was not alone in the cosmic aspect.

Standing made the muscles of his legs stretch like a fern towards the sun; he basked in the discomfort masked as relief and let a moment pass before he turned away from the garish city light.
The steps he made were muffled from the soft, wild grass that grew well above his ankles. Nighttime enveloped him as he made his way towards the trees, which were swaying back and forth as if in frenzied prayer. He covered the ground in an easy gait, eyes half closed, energy coursing through his veins like a new born spring. His gait turned into a jog, his jog into a sprint, the tree line loomed, swaying, beckoning. He leapt past the first tree and felt a wave of exhilaration. Faster still, the breeze turned organic and beautiful, it sang to a secret, hidden part of him that was closer to the surface than ever. He flew over the ground, kicking up leaves and startling animals. His feet finally slowed, picking their way more carefully through dense undergrowth.
His pace became distorted, as if he was in pain. He toppled to the ground, gritting teeth that shined red in the dull light of the moon. He scrambled to tear off his jacket, it was constricting his nature, and he needed to be free of lies. He flung the piece of cloth away from him, almost like it was a venomous reptile. He forced himself to his knees and looked up at the sky once more, searching desperately for kinship in the cold, lifeless stars.
He let his wings unfold, slowly; blood encrusted the white feathers, so delicate and wispy. The bones creaked and stretched his flight feathers out, like a fan. He was panting from the energy it took to unfold his damaged wings. A Line of fresh blood welled from the shoulder blades and ran down his back. He whimpered as the darkness rippled to his right, terrifying him as a shadowy figure began to emerge, like a rider dismounts his horse. The face materialized above the robes, still intangible, with tendrils snaking in all directions.
“Judas, my boy.” The creature murmured, as if he felt sorry for the angel in front of him.
“Hades.” Judas replied, glancing up sideways, letting his hurt wings rest on his back. Hades frowned, going down on his knee and examining Judas’s face.
“You have such a high capacity for pain, for an Angel.” Hades said with no malice, only regal concern. His brow furrowed as he reached out with a white hand to brush a lock of hair from Judas’s face. The angel jerked away, struggling to stand. Hades swiftly lifted Judas to his feet.
“I do not need help Hades.”
“Yes you do. You ran from my kingdom, Judas, you are deteriorating. You need to come back with me. “Hades held out his hand, looking expectantly at Judas. Judas swayed like the trees but managed to sneer at his new master.
“I would rather die than go back with you.” The angel snapped, spitting at Hade’s feet, taking a step back. The pain pierced him and he cried out, almost falling. Hades made a slightly offended and bored face.
“Cut the melodramatic s**t. You and I both know you do not wish to die. Stop lying to yourself. Come, I can help you, you fell into my domain, and I’ve not a wish to see you in such pain.” Hades looked at him expectantly, the red eyes fading to a pale blue; their true color. Judas winced; all around him the forest was silent except for his ragged breathing. He angrily threw himself at Hades, only to find himself on the forest floor, looking up at Hades, to the stars. His vision paled and blurred, and darkness curled the edges of his sight, leaving only the feeling of being picked up apparent, and the lasting emotion of regret lulling him to sleep. He would never escape. Neither from Hades or himself.