Raphael has to wait amid the roaring wind for the fire to go out.
It burns for days. A clever creation of those who would capture angels.
And finally, a flicker, a failure, and they can free themselves. They don't look back, rising into the sky to feel lightning run along their wings in welcome. They feel the muffled cries of their siblings come back to clarity. Higher, they fly, until there's only the endless expanse of space before them. Familiar stars glitter in the vacuum.
Angels are not built for confinement.
That is why the Apocalypse is a mercy.