Darkness approaching the whiteness

Mac was sweating.
Shaking.
Freezing cold.
Weak.
He could see the House Witch sitting beside him on the cave floor. She was holding his hand.
He tried to rush to his feet, but his body wasn’t able to move an inch. He tried to shout at her, but there was barely a whisper coming from his mouth.
She watched him. Calmly. With empathetic eyes.
She didn’t look very hostile to him, being his captive and all. Something must have gone very, very wrong.
“What have you done to me?” he whispered.
She didn’t reply, she just kept stroking his hand, then lifted his head gently up and gave him some water. He couldn’t believe the rush she must have gotten from seeing him this humiliated and knocked out by her fucked-up witchcraft. Obviously there was no end to the evil ways of these primitive people.
Only her appearance and actions confused him.
Why didn’t she just finish him off? There was no way he could give her any resistance in his present state.
Or maybe he had been totally wrong about her? She didn’t really look like someone capable of hurting anyone at all.
The more he looked at her while lying here in this terrible shape, the more he thought she rather had some otherworldly beauty about her.
Of course! That was part of her spell. After all she was the one who had put him in this state to begin with.
He had never before experienced anything like this before, to lose his power like this. It was like his body didn’t belong to himself anymore. It had just turned into this large, cold heap of flesh and bones attached to the back of his mind somehow.
“You must relax”, the Witch said, and gently laid his head back down.
He tried to reply, but couldn’t fill his lungs with enough air to speak. He closed his eyes. They felt so heavy.
Then all went quiet.