"Don't touch the water!" Zark cried out, tackling Coren Starchaser to the deck of the boat.
His touch was now just as solid as it had been in life, until a wave crashed over the side and splashed over them both. Both Jedi began smoking, and Coren's spirit guide started to fade. His cries to hold on could just barely be heard over the torrent, for Coren who had just been considering calling on the Force to intercede would now find that his connection to it was fading. All either of them could do was cling to the deck of the boat, and ride out the River's furor. After what seemed like a very long time but in hindsight must have only been a few minutes, the storm subsided of its own accord and the waters around them were unnaturally calm.
"Your powers should return...in time," the Jedi spirit was panting heavily, still flickering in and out of corporeality, "I am afraid until then you will continue to feel a great sickness. Welcome to the River of the Dead, the Path of Choices awaits us at its mouth. Here, give me a hand."
Zark could feel the sickness too, he was a being of the Force after all. It felt like radiation poisoning, and for as long as it lasted he was confined to this plane of existence, unable to access any of his spirit powers. Despite the pain, he reached for one of the oars and began to row them both downriver. They could not afford to tarry in any one place for long, the Ferrymen wouldn't hurt them but if their deception was discovered this journey would be over before it had ever begun.
"We don't have much time, I can tell you a little more now that you're on the Other Side. You won't remember most of this when you wake up anyway. There's no other way into the Mist-Beyond than the Path of Choices, not one that I know about anyway. I should be able to pass unseen, but you'll have to be Judged."