Hyrule
It is a small land, really. Only two weeks by foot from the plateau lying northward of Hyrule Castle Town, to the shores of Lake Hyrule, where the massacred dead from the last and worst civil war still haunt the ruins of their homes.
A small land, in the world of the Elves, north of the ancient civilizations on the mouth of the river Sobrine. Insignificant, poor by comparison, with a population so small that numbers equal to it die in single battles in the darker days of more civilized lands.
But Hyrule is special. For the world of the Elves is marked by magic, in the herbs of village healers, in the intent bound upon warriors' swords, and the tools of conjurors. What lies within Hyrule is beyond mere magic. It is practically another world.
It is a lonely world, for few can cross in and out, and none have done so in over 300 years. To the west lies the desert of the Gerudo, where flickers of the dead appear, filled with malice. North lie the hills of the Castle Town, and beyond, the great plateau, where the pass has been blocked entirely by mountain ice since the coming of the Elvish folk into the land from the north, barring once. East lies the forbidding Tower Mountains, impassable, cloaked in deep pine forest, the ancestral home of the nearly dead Shadow Walkers, the Sheikah.
Even the way south, covered by a lake so vast it takes two days to cross in clear skies and good winds, on an expanse of water known for neither, along with no usable harbors, is shielded. Hyrule is a fortress.
But what binds Hyrule together is beyond this. It emanates from the six temples, and warps the real world until, in Hyrule, the land, its past and future, its people, its very life, are but a tapestry of the Gods. They do not know it, but they are actors and shapers in this magical land, a reflection of divine power that has long forgotten the outside world.