Astor forced a charming smile as the cameras flashed, resisting the urge to shield his eyes. He sat on the studio stage with the other "star explorers" of Frontier Guild, prepped to peddle more propaganda for their corporate masters.
The pretty blonde interviewer beamed at Astor. "So you're something of a prodigy, discovered at only age Fifteen! How does being the youngest leader in Frontier feel?"
"Oh, it's incredibly humbling," Astor recited, hoping he sounded more sincere than he felt. "I'm just honored to work with this talented team every day."
The other youths around him smiled and nodded eagerly, playing their parts as his starstruck followers. In truth, their minds were as tightly leashed as hounds. But the cameras captured only their contrived and tireless adoration of their master Astor.
"Now, some nasty rumors have emerged about Frontier's practices," the interviewer continued, briefly dimming her perky smile. "Care to address those?"
Kren jumped in brightly before Astor could respond. "Lies spread by envious competitors! Frontier gave us purpose through the awakening!"
The others chimed in agreement as Astor watched numbly. Their cultish devotion was ironically genuine, even if the origins were sinister. He had warped their body and soul into fanatics.
"We live to serve the Guild's great vision under Astor's wise leadership," added another youth named Caleb. Astor avoided wincing at the unthinking zealotry in his empty eyes.
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The interviewer seemed satisfied, moving on to easier topics like their "incredible abilities" and "trailblazing triumphs." Astor answered automatically, shoulders rigid beneath his blazer.
He felt like a fraud or, worse, a puppet prince clapping mindlessly for tyrants. But the farce never faltered. To the public, he was the beloved prodigy leading the next generation of explorers, not a trafficked child-playing figurehead.
The cameras eventually stopped rolling. But inside, Astor never stopped screaming.
Mitch stared hollowly at the credits rolling on the TV screen after Astor's latest interview. He had stumbled upon it while channel surfing, drawn in instantly by the sight of Astor's face, older and wearier than Mitch remembered but still so familiar.
Now Mitch sat paralyzed, his mind and body screaming with cravings that had lain dormant until this fateful moment. He had thought himself growing stronger, moving beyond the desire for Astor's mental control.
But just seeing Astor again ignited an agonizing need for serenity and connection, the utter peace only Astor's powers had ever granted him. Now the savage urges threatened to consume Mitch once more.
With trembling hands, Mitch rewound the recording, letting himself memorize each of Astor's mannerisms and the lilting tones of his voice, like an addict getting one more hit.
It still wasn't enough. Almost without realizing it, Mitch found himself browsing Astor merch online, clicking to zoom in on glossy photographs of that beloved face from every angle.
The intensity of his obsession unsettled Mitch deeply. But he couldn't bring himself to close the browser, always opening up new tabs to feed his hunger.
When the life-sized cardboard cutout of Astor arrived days later, Mitch was too far gone to feel ashamed setting it up in his room. The fake smile and dead eyes mocked him, but Mitch clung to this shallow facsimile regardless.
"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, resting his head against the cutout's shoulder. A single tear traced down Mitch's cheek. He had tried so hard, but that dark void lurking inside still longed to consume him.
Mitch knew he should destroy this makeshift shrine, beg the doctors to increase his medication, anything to resist slipping back into old demons. But he felt so very tired of fighting his nature. Easier to give in, and let need and weakness guide him once more.
Astor had awakened something broken in Mitch's soul. Without the real boy here to repair him again, these empty effigies of affection were all Mitch had to fill the desolate chasm inside. For now, they would have to suffice, a hollow life raft against the raging darkness.