"Fiona his wife who was struck down on the floor had witnessed the terrible scene. She was paralyzed with horror - not just because she knew that her husband would kill her next. Suddenly, her voice rose in an unnaturally high, almost monotonous tone:
'Oh, my husband, Rory MacGlennie, Laird of Glenballoch, Lord of Castledoom. Yours is the darkness, yours are the eyes that do not see. I see how you writhe in your torments, not for hours, not for days, not for years, but for all eternity. I see you in this life and the next - and all is dark. No light, no mercy, no hope. It is given to me to see and know that there will be no mercy for your release until that great body of yours is cut in four quarters and each quarter buried by night in a separate parish. I curse you, Rory MacGlennie. I curse you ...'
'Then she was silent because he had kicked her with great force in the stomach, the force of the kick sending her crashing to the stone floor. The sound of her own ribs cracking was like a death knell, and she knew she was doomed. Rory's face twisted into a grotesque mask of rage as he threw himself down on the helpless body, the keen-bladed dirk stabbing and slashing a hundred times until the whole beautiful body was a mass of blood.
The blade stabbed and slashed with a rhythmic precision like a demon's claw, each thrust and slash accompanied by a sickening squelch as it tore through flesh and bone. Fiona's screams were reduced to pitiful whimpers as her body was torn apart, her lifeblood ebbing away with each passing moment.
"Fergus and Big Angus dragged Duncan Og away, throwing him into the darkness like a discarded rag doll. The scholar's terrified screams echoed through the night, mingling with the distant howling of wolves as he stumbled through the darkness, his fate all but sealed.
"If he survived that there were the deep waters of the loch, there were the rivers and the crags. He would scarcely live to starve to death.
"They heard the last words of Fiona's curse and they saw their master's insane attack. Nor were they overly shocked by his actions. They had been with him long enough to see him do worse. The curse was another matter for they firmly believed in the power of the curse, especially from someone on the point of death.
"But what followed shocked even their hardened hearts. For suddenly Rory Macglennie took his dagger and cut off his wife's left breast. The sound of the blade cutting through flesh and bone was like a butcher's cleaver, and the sight of it was too much for the two clansmen. He took it to the fire and began to toast it on the point of his skean dubh.
"The stench of charred flesh filled the great hall, mingling with the metallic tang of blood as Rory took a bite of the toasted breast. His eyes glinted with a mad, feral light as he chewed, the sound of his own teeth grinding against the flesh like a death rattle.
" 'She was no use to me in life," he growled, his voice barely human. "In her death, she'll at least furnish out a meal... Here, Clootie, try a bite.'
"The raven's black eyes seemed to gleam with an unholy intelligence as it accepted the offering, its beak tearing into the flesh with a sickening crunch. The sound of Rory's laughter echoed through the great hall, a chilling, inhuman sound that seemed to come from the very depths of madness itself.