Raiding the Lich's Lair (4)

The central area of the Foolish Lich's abode was filled to the brim with deathly guards. Flesh golems, towering monstrosities stitched together from countless corpses. Their mismatched limbs and bulbous torsos bore the signs of haphazard construction, with thick black thread crisscrossing their rotting flesh. They lumbered through the lair, their heavy footfalls echoing like dull thunder, eyes glowing faintly with the necromantic energy that animated them.

Hovering in the shadows, wraiths glided silently, their translucent forms exuding an aura of cold despair. Their spectral faces twisted and contorted as though screaming in eternal agony, their hollow eyes scanning the lair for intruders. The faint whisper of their movements seemed to carry the echoes of lost souls, creating an eerie, bone-chilling symphony.