It's been some time since I've done some analysis, which simply accounts for my natural assumption of there being no one willing to read it either way, but I've decided to pave a path (not spoon-feed, mind you) for some of the readers willing to do so; willing to delve into the abyss that this series really is. There is simply too much to look into and every time a chapter is (undeniably) incomplete without an author's note, readers lose more and more meaning and drift further and further away unless they actually think about the characters.

Let's start with something not too long-winded and sufficiently relevant to bring you back into the mood for analysis. You might have already guessed—I would never write a word in this series without there being a purpose for it being there, at that exact place, in the exact context.

The Book Without a Name (or as Io terms it, the Nameless Book) is the symbol I will be talking about today. It appears—not to our complete knowledge—in the first book when Io reads about the existence of someone else on the island with Dual Avians, although failing to give a name. The text does not state the person's name or his origins.

Note that the Dual Avians in this reference is that of natural origins; meaning that he/she did not do what Reux or Luka did (eat another's heart) to forcibly forge another contract with other Avians apart from their own.

To understand what the book is and what it represents, we must first look at the one and only page of the book which words (which is already a huge clue omg how did no one see it I thought I was laying it straight out eep).

He who creates shalt seeth what is writ.

He who creates shall see what is written. Simply by taking this sentence apart and doing some basic rationalizing, we can derive that those who CAN see what is being written in the book MUST be someone who creates. One can hence conclude that there are two aspects to this statement—what it means to be a creator and the contents (that which is written) of the book.

Let us first look at the latter.

That which is written

We are aware that this differs from person to person. Sylvain reads the coming of Falrir and his attributes, his characteristics, his power and his physicality. Sylvain advised Io to read the book should he wish to find out more about Lord Falrir. Unfortunately, he is unable to because what Sylvain used to see has not only disappeared, Io himself would not be able to see what Sylvain had seen.

He who creates shalt seeth what is writ.

Only the creator can see what is being written. Because Sylvain is the only one who can see what he read about Lord Falrir, he is the creator of Falrir himself. This, again, alludes to the fact that Sylvain is the true God of the island—a mere butterfly. But that is exactly where we should be looking for the creator; not on some high and mighty pedestal, but within us, closest to where we are. He is in the smallest of things, the tiniest of details that He has crafted. The most intricate, most imperfectly beautiful world.

Sylvain, a butterfly, the smallest of things, can create something as magnificent as a dragon and it is, till this very date, that no one knows of his existence.

Enough about religion—there is something else.

What Io has read is of someone who has broken the laws of the universe to achieve a status that is beyond paradigmatic comprehension. No one would ever be able to conceive a prey having a predator's Avian vice versa. In fact, Sylvain himself, who has lived hundreds of years on the island, said that there was never someone with Dual Avians. Who, then, is this person?

Well, the question is: who do we, as readers—certainly and without a single streak of doubt—know is prey and predator at the same time? The answer is obvious.

The only person in this entire series with natural Dual Avians is Iolani Tori.

The figure in the book without a name that Io read a long time ago is no one other than himself.

He who creates shalt seeth what is writ.

And if only the creator can see what is being written, who, then, created Iolani Tori but himself?

We have, on one hand, the belief that one is created by something beyond their comprehension, beyond their realm. But we have, on the other hand, that which is within the Self. The strength that comes from writing our own stories, from being the author (the authority), the higher power, the creator—we make ourselves.

Iolani has no one else to thank but himself for all the suffering, all the pain, all the joy, all the power and all the strength. This is why he, at the end of the second book, is on the brink of self-destruction when he, quite literally, lost his mind (the losing of his cage) and all that is left is his heart (the creature).

His creature is incapable of harming anyone but himself. Without its cage, the creature feels all the pain that it has suffered from its own claws and should I attempt to explain this to great lengths, I should probably take an entire book. I'll stop here.

The Nameless Book is about authorship. Who it is that we believe authors our lives. Even Luka, who seemingly possesses no will to change the direction in which the river may flow, sees something in the book.

He sees an astronaut, right after speaking to Io about "the person he wants to be knighted with", also known as "partners".

For all intents and purposes, Luka can never match the heights in which Io is destined to fly (or more specifically, has chosen to fly). He cannot, and is not the sun to the moon. Luka knows that he can never be closer to Io than he already is. He is human; capable of only raising his head to look at the eye high above in the sky.

Yet, there is only one sort of human that can, at the very least, be that much closer to the moon.