They each return to the country of their birth with magic flowing through their veins—unseen, invisible to the eye, but felt every time a bird calls or a wind whips through hair or metal clangs.

It might not be seen, but it does begin to work on them in unexpected ways: Polly always has a way of knowing what's wrong and bringing peace to the girls she mentors; Digory's presence is just left of normal and his eyes shine with a kind of knowing; when Peter walks into a room, people pay attention; Susan looks just slightly more than her lipstick and cotton dresses should cause; when Edmund, who but for his too-old eyes looks like a school-boy in his uniforms and messy hair, speaks even the oldest and wisest listen to him and consider his words; when people see Lucy out of the corner of their eye, they sometimes think they see a fae or some other creature of the woods; Eustace's mere presence and knowing eyes makes people the slightest bit uncomfortable in a way that inspires self-reflection; Jill can see through any evasion and remembers anything important that you tell her. In short, they are not of here, but slightly more and slightly to the side of here: magic runs through their veins.