𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

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ˢᵗʳᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ
ᵒˡᵈᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡʸ
ˢʰᵉ ᵇʳᵘˢʰᵉˢ ᵐʸ ʰᵃⁱʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰʸˢⁱᶜᵃˡ ʰᵃⁿᵈ
ˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃⁿᵈ
ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ, ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ
ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ, ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ
ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐⁱˢᵗ
ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˡⁱᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ʷʳⁱˢᵗˢ
ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘⁿ
ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵒˣʸᵍᵉⁿ

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"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

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𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐮𝐥."

𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥, house of the dragonWhere stories live. Discover now