Welcome to the shadows, dear reader.
Let’s talk demons—the metaphorical kind (unless you’ve recently summoned one, in which case…good luck and maybe light a protective circle). In The Last Ringmaster: Kindred, Harley’s demon isn’t a horned monster; it’s the voice in her head. The one that whispers you’re too much or you’re not enough. Sound familiar?
Yeah, me too.
When Darkness Becomes Your Greatest Strength
Harley spends most of her life trying to squash the dangerous thing inside her. She listens to mentors like Syd, who says: “Don’t let them see what you are.” She assumes her inner demon is a curse—something toxic, something that makes her unfit to lead, to love, or to belong.
Cue dramatic irony, because: that darkness? It’s magic.
Literal fire-in-her-blood, shadows-at-her-command magic.
The turning point comes in the Sanctuary’s training ring, when Harley stops running and lets it in:
“Without fear holding her back, Harley let the darkness settle in her eyes… Wind swirled at her feet as she commanded the sands on the old floor to obey her.”
The part she feared most became her power move. And if that isn’t a metaphor wrapped in elemental drama, I don’t know what is.
Meanwhile, in the Real World…
My own inner demon isn’t quite so dramatic—no swirling sands or elemental powers. Just a snide little gremlin that shows up every time I sit down to write and says, “This is garbage. Also, you’re not qualified. Who gave you a keyboard?”
So I do what Harley does: I let the demon talk, then I write anyway. I give it a seat at the circus, but I sure as hell don’t hand it the microphone.
Your inner demon might be a critic, but it’s also where your weirdest, wildest, most magical ideas live. In both fiction and life, sometimes the thing you think disqualifies you is the thing that makes you unforgettable.
So What’s Your Act?
Everyone in Harley’s world has an act—a way they turn their pain or strangeness into power. Fire-breathers, shadow dancers, memory magicians.
What’s yours? What part of yourself have you kept locked away, convinced it’s too strange, too intense, too much?
Maybe it’s time to let that demon take center stage. Sparkles optional. Applause guaranteed.
Remember: your inner demon isn’t there to ruin your life—it’s the part of you that survived, adapted, and maybe even got a little spicy about it.
Just ask Harley.
Until next time, keep your whip sharp and your fire burning,
Lynda 🎪
P.S. Have you ever turned a “too much” into a superpower? I want to hear about it—hit reply and tell me your inner demon’s best trick.
