How Does 'Intermezzo' End For The Protagonist?

The ending of 'Intermezzo' hits hard. The protagonist, after years of internal conflict and external battles, finally accepts their fractured identity. They don’t get a clean victory or a tragic death—instead, it’s raw ambiguity. In the final scene, they walk away from their old life, symbolically burning their uniform (their past allegiance) under a twilight sky. The last lines describe them smiling for the first time in the story, not because everything’s resolved, but because they’ve chosen freedom over resolution. It’s bittersweet; their future is uncertain, but they’re no longer trapped by others’ expectations or war’s cruelty. The author leaves their ultimate fate open, focusing instead on the catharsis of self-acceptance.

Let me break down 'Intermezzo’s' finale thematically. The protagonist’s arc isn’t about winning or losing—it’s about transformation. In the climax, they confront their former mentor in a duel that’s more philosophical than physical. Neither dies; the mentor disarms them, then collapses from wounds earned earlier. Instead of delivering a killing blow, the protagonist carries their enemy to safety, rejecting the cycle of vengeance.

This act fractures their faction’s trust but earns respect from neutral territories. The epilogue jumps ahead five years: they’re seen working as a borderland mediator, their combat skills repurposed for diplomacy. Their old sword hangs on a wall, unused but not forgotten. The story ends with them receiving a letter from their estranged sister—unopened, symbolizing unresolved threads. The message is clear: some conflicts don’t end neatly, but growth comes from choosing your battles.

What’s brilliant is how the narrative mirrors musical intermezzos—short, impactful moments between larger movements. The protagonist’s story doesn’t tie up every plotline; it’s a pause before life’s next movement. Fans of layered endings should also check 'The Sparrow Academy' for similar narrative structures.

'Intermezzo' wraps with a quiet storm. In the last chapter, the protagonist abandons their quest for revenge after realizing their true enemy was never the antagonist, but their own guilt. The final confrontation happens in a ruined chapel—no grand battle, just a conversation where both characters admit their failures. When dawn breaks, the antagonist dies peacefully from prior injuries, and the protagonist buries them under the chapel’s collapsed bell tower (a nice callback to earlier themes of silenced voices).

Their last act is releasing their pet falcon, a metaphor for letting go of controlled aggression. The bird circles twice—acknowledgment, not farewell—before flying west. The protagonist then walks east toward farmlands, leaving weapons behind. Unlike typical endings where protagonists find new purpose, this one implies they’ll live simply, maybe even mundanely. It’s refreshingly anti-climactic and deeply human. For fans of unconventional resolutions, 'Whalefall' delivers similar vibes with its emphasis on quiet redemption over spectacle.