The picture is Julien, the main character from one of my stories. I sort of had him in mind while writing this, but it doesn't necessarily fit into the novel that he's from, but it might with a sequel. 

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Twigs snapped. Leaves rustled. He could only see by the short glow of his spell. That and the moon. 

It had to be enough. He couldn’t risk more. Couldn’t risk being seen.

Crouching, he dashed to the next tree - and the next - the next - it had to be under one of these - 

His hand shifted through the dirt - and more dirt - then something cold. Cold, hard - not a rock this time - 

His heart leapt - 

- then sank.

He felt his limbs drain of energy as he sank back, sitting on his heels, gazing at the thing in his hands. He felt his head shake from side to side, slowly, as he tried to process… out of all of his plans, all of his theories of the path that this investigation could take, he had never anticipated this. 

In his hands, he held the amulet that just this morning had been full of such powerfully flowing magic, magic that had been in it for centuries. That magic had drained completely,  leaving behind pieces of metal and glass that rested limply in his fingers, a mere object, broken.