Myrdal has always lived with the wetlands rather than against them. Fishing, trapping, peat cutting and gathering provide much of what the village needs, while narrow waterways and raised paths connect places that would otherwise be difficult to reach. Children learn early which ground is firm, which waters are deeper than they appear and how quickly familiar marshland can disappear beneath mist.
The people of Myrdal share many of Skógdalr's old beliefs, but their customs are particularly concerned with light and water. Nobody follows an unfamiliar light into the marsh after sunset, and boats found drifting without an owner are left untouched until morning. Travelers are warned never to leave the raised paths simply because they believe they can see a shorter route.
During heavy fog, another rule applies: if you hear someone calling from the marsh, wait until they call three times before answering.
Lights in the wetlands are common enough that most villagers pay them little attention. Some are lanterns carried by fishermen or travelers. Others are dismissed as Irrbloss, reflections or tricks of the mist.
But occasionally the lights appear inside Myrdal itself.
A pale lantern can be seen moving slowly between houses, along the raised road or beside the docks. It never illuminates whoever carries it, and anyone approaching finds the path ahead empty.
Most villagers simply go indoors when they see it.
The strange part comes the following morning.
Wherever the light stopped during the night, something is usually found: a lost possession, an unfamiliar footprint, a dead animal—or occasionally something that disappeared into the marsh years ago.
No one in Myrdal follows the light to see where it goes next.