He was back in that infernal darkness.
It wasn't the darkness of the seas or the darkness he saw whenever the shadows enveloped his room. It was that darkness from after that incident during the festival.
He sat on the ground, or ceiling, or wall, and stared into the neverending abyss. He couldn't see himself or anything and the whispers around him was the only sound he could hear.
Ísar wasn't scared of the dark abyss anymore. He was tired. So very tired. He was somewhat content in being trapped in the abyss, his only worry being if Osayi had gotten out of the sea safely.
And so he continued to sit, ignoring the whispers of 'Our King! Our King!' as he closed his eyes and felt the darkness wash over him.