Unnamed as in we need a name for it, or unnamed as in the people don't have a name for it, it's simply "the forest" in common parlance?

Cambria is a port city, and port cities thrive on trade; therefore there must be some other cities scattered on rivers and the seacoast across the land, for Cambria to trade with. We could make up names and approximate locations for some of the cities, how they were affected by the war, their diplomatic relations with Cambria, etc. 

Also, wasteland can mean many different things. The Great Snake Desert was always wasteland, from a Cambrian point of view, but the plains to the east of the mountains have likely been decimated by the fighting, especially if battle mages were involved. During and immediately after the war, the forest was in rough shape too, but the fae look after their own. There are tales of blood and ash turned instantly to fallen leaves, of enormous oak trees growing in a day that look as though they've been there for hundreds of years. Likewise, the far northern tundra was the site of at least one long and bitter siege, but has remained mostly unaffected - the cold is too brutal for most humans to sustain for long. It could be called wasteland as well.

For the mountains, I'm thinking griffins or some variety of dragon might be our best bet. Something that can fly, certainly.

No one knows much about the lands across the sea. Ships turn up in the port cities once or twice a year claiming to be from Sanneora or Grand Faltree or some such place, but no one can ascertain the veracity of such statements, given the wondrous things that come from this continent alone. There are legends, though, of a civilization of people who live their entire lives on boats and use the raw magic of the sea in lieu of blurstones, of a city built on a floating island that wanders the Deep. These are the legends that the people of Cambria so hope can save them, because if even a fraction of them are true, it will be better than simply waiting here for the Dark to destroy everything.

Paradoxically, the centers of magic - the monasteries and academies dedicated to the subject in cities around the continent - are the last holdouts to be completely untouched by the darkness. Even places where no magic has been seen in decades can feel it a little: rural farmers' crops grow just a little bit worse, sages in the mountains glimpse more shadow in their meditations. The fae grow restless as their forest is struck, little by little, with blight; they steal people and replace them with changelings more often now, they are more likely to walk the streets of Cambria in human guise and try to trick someone into making a bad deal.

The people of the Great Snake Desert, the Dust People and the Badawiin, have kept to themselves through all this, as they always have and likely always will. Even they have felt the Darkness, though. Their wise women speak always of the Balance, the Price, coming up in their auguries. A few of their most reliable watering holes have dried up. They wonder what has become of their children who have gone to seek their fortunes far away.

There have been rumors, from the poorest slums of Cambria where magic is plentiful but the protective influence of the monastery does not often turn, of the Shadow taking physical shape, in the form of some crawling, slavering abomination made of nothing but tarry darkness. Most people go about their days ignoring these rumors completely. To acknowledge them would be to admit that something so horrible as they describe could really exist, which is a scarier prospect than many can handle.

Okay, huge Cambrian-current-events dump over. I'll quit rambling now. Use any or none of these ideas as you see fit.